Every night, I go
to sleep grateful to be loved. Every morning, I wake up grateful to be loved.
When I come home, my four wonderful dogs come running to the door, barking and
carrying on. “Mommie, Mommie! You’re home! Look everybody, Mommie’s home! You
play ball with me, huh? Huh? Huh? Here’s the ball! Look! Look! ” Then they
proceed to jump and bark and generally misbehave, knowing they can get away
with it just that one time. “I love you, Mommie!” The work day fades into
memory, and I am in my loving element.
I come from a
family of twelve siblings. I was number ten. I always felt loved, even when I
was lost at the dinner table. I was the youngest daughter, my Daddy’s baby
doll. I sat next to him on the couch as he read the newspaper, and helped him
weed our little garden of strawberries. He taught me to smell the soil for its
nutrients, gauge the barometric pressure by the look of the leaves on the apple
tree, and appreciate the value of the worms in the rich soil. When he died in
1973, I was living in San Francisco, and I made it home to Santa Fe in time to
say goodbye and hold his hand as he took his last breath.
In the same way, I
spent important days praying the rosary with my Mother. The day before she
died, I cuddled up to her at her hospice bed, knowing that she could hear me
singing in her ear, “I’ll be loving you, always. With a love that’s true,
always…” In a casket that looked
like a jewelry box, she held a special crystal and roses rosary that I made just for her; it is a rosary that I now treasure. I wear her wedding
ring, the engagement ring that my Dad gave her in 1932.
As I began my Spark
journey, I was guided by the spirits of my mother and father, as well as the
loving support of my family. Thanks to my family, then and now, my furry
children and their other Mommie, and my special relationship with God, I know
how to love and be loved.
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