My mother died 2 years ago today. In some ways, it seems like more than two years has passed since she died. Her absence is part of my daily life now. But there are still times when the wound still feels fresh. At some point every day, I think I should call her and have to remind myself I can no longer do this. But I can keep her memory alive by sharing stories about her.
Mom was my biggest fan. Growing up, the word that I associate with her is love. I remember as a child that it was unconditional and expressed often. I knew she was proud of me, but I never felt like I had to do anything to earn her love – it was just there.
Near the end of her life, I came to understand what a strong person my mother was. My mother had grit, warmth, a positive outlook on life, and an independent streak that served her well during the last three years of her life.
Here’s what I am missing on this second anniversary of my mother’s death:
The way her face lit up a room when she smiled
The warmth of her hugs
The way she loved to celebrate
The love in her voice every time she spoke
May her memory be a blessing.