Mari’s kisses were special. She wasn’t one to just give them freely. When she did, it meant more than most because of the significance of her comprehending what a kiss was: a form of endearment. She could communicate her feelings or emotions like so many of us can today. Her autism simply didn’t allow it. However, over time she slowly came out of her shell. No, not like a typical person, but different than she once was.
I loved giving her a kiss goodbye or a kiss good night when we were tucking her into bed at night.
I think back on my daughter‘s last day on this earth and how I sat holding her that last hour of her life. Her life support had been taken off and it was only a matter of time to where her body would eventually given into the inevitable. As I sat there holding my precious angel in my arms, I whispered to her that I would be okay. That while I’d miss her terribly that I’d be okay. And then I’d kiss her on the cheek or on the forehead. I continued to do this until my daughter finally took her last breath in my arms.
The last time I saw her body was when it was lying in the casket right after the funeral service had taken place. Keith and I were the last two people to be able to say goodbye since we were Mommy and Daddy. We took her special Precious Moment blanket that we’d had up on display and laid it over her little lifeless body. It was like we were tucking her in one last time. I leaned over into the casket and gave my daughter one final kiss on the forehead before I fell apart crying and had to go sit back down on the couch. That was the last time I ever got to see her, even though I knew that her spirit had already gone to see Jesus only six days prior.
So, as you can imagine, her little kiss hold a very special place in my heart and I will always cherish every one she ever gave me.