I am His creation.  To God.

I am a surprise.  To my parents.

I am Mom.  To my kids.

I am (still, even now) a little sister.  To my siblings.

I am that hippy chick.  To my friends and community.

I am warrior. To my prayer sisters and faces of Jesus.

I am Patricia Anne Cox Hatch.


And in my mind, in the silent places, I hear my Mom call me Patrish.

Someone once told me we don’t truly grow up until our parents are gone.  For those with the luxury of having parents during those crucial raising up years, I do believe this is true.  My mom passed away recently, and I can feel the loss strengthening me.  I would give anything just about to see her again, but still, I am getting stronger in her absence.  I think the reason boils down to the simple act of listening.  I am listening a little harder to my inner soul and quite often it is my mother’s voice guiding me.  Patrish

Back when she was suffering and living in this twilight of an existence, part of me wanted to hold her warm hand forever.  But as long as I held it, I couldn’t talk with her.  Not really.  Not talk with her and have any real idea that she understood.  And so I wished for her to go so that her soul would be released and I could talk with her again.   This time woman to woman.  I felt guilty wishing her to pass, and yet to have a conversation and have her laugh and say Patrish….

See, back during the twilight, I talked to her constantly.  But the conversations never left my head and my mouth rarely uttered the out loud words.  Instantly, I would correct myself, reminded that Mom was stuck in the twilight.  She couldn’t hear me yet.  Now recently, I talk to my mother again, and this time, I know she can hear me.  I feel it.  It is a bit of her in me and she strengthens me.  And she answers….Oh, Patrish!….

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