Her famous potato salad, Aprons stitched with loving care, Cooking, sewing, making something— She found happiness in there. She could crochet, knit and make things I'd get restless sitting through— And if she did those things much better, That's okay—I know it's true. Halloween was made for Debbie, Costumes, parties—her specialty! There were things that came so naturally To her that don't to me. She had gifts that I don't carry, I have gifts that weren't her own. There's room to tell the truth about us both And let our strengths be known. You don't have to dim what's good in me To let her memory shine. There's room to honor all she was And still see what is mine. She doesn't lose a single thing When something good is said of me. You don't have to make me smaller To protect her memory. And then there were the similarities That stopped me in my tracks— Quotes, pictures, figurines So much that showed our interests matched. Two returned missionaries, Two testimonies running deep, Two women who loved Christmas And the sacred things we'd keep. My strength is making order Out of things that overwhelm. Give me plans and presentations, And I'll gladly take the helm. I'd rather build a program Than an afghan any day, Build organizations, dreams and systems— That's simply how I'm made. And yes, I'm good with money. Your dad appreciates that too. It doesn't rewrite yesterday To simply say what's true. You don't have to dim what's good in me To let her memory shine. There's room to honor all she was And still see what is mine. She doesn't lose a single thing When something good is said of me. You don't have to make me smaller To protect her memory. And yes, our marriage has been peaceful, Almost eighteen years without a fight. That doesn't mean he didn't love her, Or make their marriage wrong or right. They had storms that you remember. They had tenderness you knew. They lived a lifetime in their chapter; Your dad and I are writing ours too. We're just different people. And life has taught us things. Maybe what he needs beside him now Fits the season we are in. Happiness today is not a judgment On the life he had before. The way that he and I love one another Doesn't mean he loved her less—or more. This was never a competition . . . except to you. If I did something well, did she have to do it better? If I did something differently, did her way have to be right? If your dad saw something good in me, did you think something was being taken from her? Nothing was. Nothing is. She doesn't need my weakness To prove that she was strong. She doesn't need my failures To prove she still belongs. And I don't need her imperfections To prove that I belong here too. There is enough truth to honor both of us. There always was. You don't have to dim what's good in me To let her memory shine. There's room for everything she was And everything that's mine. Let her be the gifted seamstress. Let her cook the things you miss. Tell the stories of her laughter, Every Christmas, every gift. And let me be the woman I am, With strengths you needn't quell. You don't betray your mother's memory By honoring mine as well. She was Debbie. I am Sharilee. Two women your father loved. Two very different lives. Remember everything beautiful about her, Treasure all she left behind. But don't diminish what's beautiful in me To keep her memory enshrined. You don't have to make me smaller For her memory still to shine.
