George Holbrook Jackson
|Here we are in December 2007 at Holly's baptism|
|VoVo, me, Jacob and Joe...last Easter she cooked 2005|
Isn't that the truth? I miss her the same as the day she passed.
If I tell the truth, maybe more.
Long hours just holding her hand because I knew I would miss it
so very much. Her beautiful skin the medical personnel complimented.
Her secret, no sun, no alcohol or smoking.
We have conversations. I ask for her advice and pray.
She prepared me well. To have honor, to be brave, to pay my bills on time,
to recognize peace as critical to happiness, to be honest, to be generous,
to have a little fun, to work hard, to love education.
Joe once said that for a tiny person she cast a large shadow.
You betcha. She asked me not to forget her.
Not even if I lived a million years.
In the winter, I wrap the many scarves she knit or crocheted for me around
my neck. I feel her hands and I imagine her sitting on the corner of the
couch with her legs stretched and her happy toes.
Holly used to dream with her VoVo all the time.
She told me VoVo is busy now she has so many friends.
Us, kids, we all believe it.
Happy Birthday my Beloved.