A couple weeks ago I stepped out of the car to go get
some lemons from the new Sprout store down the street.
I opened the door and right in front of me,
sitting on the dashboard of the vehicle was a puppy.
It called to me.
I wanted to reach right through the
window and take it home.
It was then that I knew, a dog was calling me.
This morning my Grand daughter woke up and wanted
to watch a movie, so we watched Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny.
This original Bugs looked weird to her, so we changed movies.
We decided on, “Hachi, A Dogs Tale.”
In the end we were both sitting on the couch,
wrapped in a blanket, crying our eyes out.
We talked about dogs
and grandpa’s
and death.
She wanted me to explain heart attacks.
Conversations flow from one thing to another
in these times, and it was then I knew:
I needed to finally write this.
I had been putting it off,
but Easter is coming, so here it is. 
Audrey tried to explain to me that
“there is this magical time that God has for each of us.
No one knows how or where,
but everybody has one.”
Nine years ago, my mother Joanne had a massive stroke,
after years of little ones, that she had forged past to stay here.
Heart problems run on her fathers side and diabetes on the other side,
so when her magical time came, she stayed true to form,
and held out, even then, for her family.
We all drove to the hospital each day, and stayed til late
and bothered the staff and roommates with our large family.
They finally put her in her own room.
Each of us children, and our Father, have our own memories
of this week before Easter in 2006.
There was no doubt from the moment we arrived,
that her magical time was near. 
I recall my new sister in law, Luz, was in the room already,
and a nurse.
The nurse started to explain again to us new arrivals,
how Mom was doing, rather gruffly.
I started to talk to Mom, to tell her where
she was, and read her nurses name to her.
I continued talking to her, hoping if she could hear us,
that we might give her some comfort.
Other children and grandchildren arrived, and those in
far off states were called and advised of her health.
I recall holding the phone up to her ear, so a couple of them
might have a chance to say any words they
might want to, before she left.
A few times she seemed to try to move her finger,
to catch our attention.
Plans and flights were arranged, and we all came
and stayed most of the days,
with Dad staying the nights.
Grandchildren who were used to climbing into bed
and sleeping next to Grandma, were still doing so,
as if nothing had changed but the room.
We had known for a while that her time was coming,
but she had always outbested God and hung on.
This time, even she could not withstand.
For me, it was as if a giant marshmallow surrounded me
each day, and so the emotions were held in check
by this soft gooeyness, that allowed me to
have peace
and go about the days.
We children had time to recall our years with Mom.
I recalled her young and vibrant and playing with us. 
Others recalled an older version, where she was sick
most of their life, but still always able to plan the
holidays and vacations and birthdays,
Even if from the bed.
Mom was always planning and making sure everything
was just right. It didn’t matter if it was a birthday or a
Ward activity at Church, she always had a long list
to go along with each and every day.
She would call me up and ask if I was available
and wanted to drive across the country,
and off we would go.
Now there would be no more phone calls,
no more talking about all the wonders of this life.
No more lists.
Everyone started to show up Easter Sunday, and baskets of
jelly beans and malt balls were everywhere in the room.
I took Dad down to the hospital lunchroom
to try to get him to eat again, and that is when he told me.
He figured I had noticed some things missing around her,
but I hadn’t.
He then told me, that he had chosen today to take her off,
because it was Easter Sunday, and he thought she would like that.
Her grandmother always had a family picnic on
the 4th of July, because her husband got so very sad on that day,
as that was the day his father had passed over.
He thought she would like us remembering her
on the day we celebrate
Christ’s Resurrection!
I am sure that at any other time, she might have picked
that very day, for that very reason, too.
But my Mother was not given to letting anyone
but herself choose her magical time
So she forged through the night.
Dad asked us to leave him to be alone with her.
In the morning, as I headed out the door to go to the hospital,
a light snow had started to come down.
By the time the car
reached Point of the Mountain,
it had become a full blown snow storm
and the radio started to play a song.
Diamond Rio: “One More Day“.
So, with tears and snow and the sun bursting
through the snow clouds,
and cars all around me,
I knew she was
saying goodbye.
When I arrived, Dad was right there, looking so very tired.
Two of my brothers were there also, and as we talked
a nurse came in to check, because he thought the
computers were saying she had left,
but she was still there.
We were all talking quietly and I looked over
and saw a small tear fall and then she really left us.
One last time 
she gathered us all together
from faraway places,
and we laughed and cried.
Now we each carry on, and go down our different paths,
but like Hachi, always on the lookout for her,
and she often can be felt closeby.
~Maybe a dog is waiting somewhere out there to find me~
or maybe he already did
Either way
my Grand daughter and I had a good time with Hachi
and discussing life and
“The Magical Time”.
