It’s been 22 years since you left this earth underneath that full moon. You were only 54. Your hand was still warm to the touch but you had journeyed on, by the time I got home, learning what you needed to of this wildly imperfect world. What I wouldn’t give to call you right now, or simply come over, I have so many questions to ask you. Gracefully, through the years you’ve continued to teach me how to be me, and while I’m still learning, with each full moon I feel more and more grounded with my growing understanding that this learning is a continuum of the lessons you were also learning, as was Oma and her mom. Our collective learning is paving the way for Gabe to pick up that baton and pass it to his children, for generations to come. Somehow that makes this life a little less lonely. Even though I still miss you. I love you, mom.