Losing my mom came as a shock even though I thought I'd prepared myself for losing her. How foolish to think one could prepare for such a loss. It still doesn't seem real. I wake up in the morning and the realization hits me all over again.
She'd been battling a life threatening illness for so long...I knew she was getting tired of it all, but I still thought there would be more time. I told her I loved her all the time, but I wished I'd gotten one more time to tell her...to hold her hand...to feel her arms around me.
My mom was also my friend. I talked to her daily and it's so hard not hearing her voice. I know she's gone on to a better place. She's free of pain and free of that body that had become so ravaged by her illness and the medicines she took. I'm selfish. I want her back, even though I know she's finally free...finally whole.
I know she'd want my sister and me to go on with our lives. She'd want us to find joy in the things we love. She'd want us to live life abundantly. Somehow, I have to go on. My mom would demand that...if I listen hard enough I almost hear her soft voice encouraging me to do so.