I found a diamond earring I thought was past missing and had moved onto completely and utterly gone.
Later she mentioned her own mortality in a casual tone, “I think I have 10-15 years left.” Standing on the other side of young and talking old. Unnatural to consider at her age. I didn’t consider and was unnecessarily cruel. I agreed with her. Yup. 10-15 years. The conversation we must have – I was not having any of it. The conversation I dreaded was on my doorstep but I was in denial. Can’t we talk about this later? If not now, then when? Is there an easy way to discuss this?
I found a diamond earring completely gone. It glittered on the carpet, winking at me to notice.
Save me before I’m sucked up. Save me so you can see me again. Place me in a box named Cherished and don’t hand me down or hand anywhere. Place me in your ear and learn to sleep on your other side. For good. Forever. For I am the gift of your mother. I am the symbol of pride as she fussed and fidgeted with your hood seconds before marching. I am unrelenting love. Unspoken mother’s love.
10-15. She said 10-15. They say diamonds are forever. Not so when lost in the carpet underfoot. Pride from a parent is permanent. Love is everlasting. Wear it well.
~*LunaSea*~ 
Having had many of those hard conversations, I still recall that the first one just knocked the wind right out of me. Somehow, over time, those conversations are not as hard. He told me once that he is content and unafraid, and that gave me peace. Yet, I am ever grateful when I get just one more day.
I hear you. Loud and clear. Thank you.