Weeks before Mom passed, she asked a dear friend to paint her fingernails blue. None of us knew why.
Those bluebird, turquoise blue nails lit up her fragile face; like the tiny spot of 'Dutchman's breeches' blue that brings smiles on dismal, gray days.
Only days later, it seems, the hospital chaplain presented our family with a passage quilt for Mom to enjoy during her final days with us. The predominate color? Sky blue, turquoise blue, Mom's lovely shade of robin's egg blue.
Mom's dear friend brought the bottle of blue nail polish to Mom's Life Celebration, the day we broke ground for Bonnie's Garden.
To honor Mom, we each had our own bit of blue painted on a nail.
My first birthday without Mom and my first Mother's Day without Mom weren't as lonely as they could have been.
I have only to look at my own spot of blue to remember.
It wasn't until the day she left that her poem "Matching blue to blue..." was discovered.
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