Category: Sad

She stands at her easel, poised and ready. Her eyes do not stray from the canvas as her brush hovers, awaiting the next thought that will carry her hand forward. She does not merely use the brush – it is an instrument. She does not merely paint upon the canvas, she is conversing with it; the brush forms abstract words in paint as her hand directs the idea.

That is how I choose to remember her: Erika, the Artist

But more.

At the park, she watches and laughs as once again Gwen goes down the slide. A moment later, she takes her baby in her arms, and for an instant all sound and sight is lost. this is a moment shared between the two. A moment of perfect love.

That is how I choose to remember her: Erika, the Mother

There are so many memories I carry, of her. In each of them, she is smiling, painting, laughing, loving, passionate, stubborn, imaginative, and too many other things to mention.

There are the ways I choose to remember her: Erika, the artist. The mother. The daughter. The sister. The dreamer. The seamstress. The designer. The friend. The confidante, The philosopher. The film buff.