The strangest thing happened to me today. I was meeting my uncle, my mom’s younger brother, for coffee. It had been a while since I had seen him, maybe even the two years since my mom died, I’m not sure. A while. I sat down and looked over at him and I was hit by a bolt of lightening.
Those eyes.
Before my uncle had spoken a word I began to weep. I couldn’t help it. Those sparkling green/brown hazel eyes alive in front of me. I had missed looking into them so much. It was overwhelming to the point that I had to look away. I tried to compose myself. Took a break to grab a tissue. Pulled myself together. But they were still there.
Her eyes.
It made me feel closer to her and miss her deeply all at the same time. It made the distance of time’s passing seem insignificant because the pull of family and the connection of something deeper and indefinable was in front of me.
Her legacy runs deep and varied in the blood of all who came before her and after.
I saw this today with my own eyes.
Eyes like my own.
Eyes like my sister.
Eyes like my daughter.
Eyes like my uncle.
My mother’s eyes.
