White coral bells upon a slender stalk,
Lilies of the valley deck my garden walk.
Oh, don’t you wish that you could hear them ring?
That will happen only when the fairies sing.
We sang in round, my sister, my aunt and cousins together in that hospital room. Though she lay there so still, the ventilator having been removed, I'm certain she could hear us. It was as though we were singing her home; letting her know it was okay to go. And so she did.
I miss you Ma. Today and every day.