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She surely must have sung to me, quietly as she carried me...for I often hum a tune that I don't know. Hauntingly familiar it seems, and also strangely comforting, these seedlings of the music of my soul. I know she sang to teach me. She planted notes inside me...the songs, the words, the melodies are clear. Somehow I think she knew that when her concert would be through, the songs she left would sing to me down here. Yes, the Bible tells me so that Jesus loves me, this I know...and all the little children of the world. Build on the rock and not the sand. He's got the whole world in His hand and Jesus died for ALL the boys and girls. She knew she was chosen to suffer. She chose to give God the praise. No one ever knew, except a chosen few, the grace and mercy of her measured days. Touching others with a smile...taking time to care...even on the darkest days, the songs were always there. A life so quickly spent...the time so swiftly gone. I treasure the assurance that she never walked alone. Holding tight and letting go, somehow, we both just knew...when with one last touch I moved away that someday I would come to you. Ever faithful, ever true, never blaming or complaining, knowing He would carry her through, the end was her beginning. Morning light...fading night. Can someone hold the day?!! This time?!! This place?!! This pain erase?!! This sorrow take away?!! Too late...too soon. Just here...then gone. Her memory not
forgotten. On heaven's stage with angels' song, with God as her Conductor.  Still her song goes on and on and my heart will sing along. No silent days, no cold, dark grave can ever STILL THE SONG. As long as there is breath in me, I shall sing. I promise.

For Margaret Ann Smith Brown
October 2, 1932-September 25, 1972.
Mother's Day 2000