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Dear mom —

A thought came Friday, soft as wind,
loose and drifting across the sea,
Unmoored by distance, unbound by land.

I knew, then, that you had gone beyond.

The next evening, I looked up:
Ursus burned in Dipper’s cup,
spilling light across the dark.

And I thought of you—and me.

Not crying yet—not for loss,
not for the weight of memories—

just knowing, quietly, that it was time.
The universe had set you free.

In loving memory, to always be, with me.