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Three Years
I can’t believe that yesterday marked the three year anniversary of my mom’s passing.
I’m doing much better than I was 2 years ago — and even 1 year ago. I am ever grateful that she wasn’t around to experience Covid. With her compromised immune system from chemotherapy and her kidney failure, I’m sure she would have contracted it and died in the hospital, alone. That would have been so much worse.
There are days where it’s still so raw; almost like it happened that day. There is no rhyme or reason as to what brings that on, so I’m never prepared for it. And then there are other days where it seems like a lifetime ago, and it’s hard to remember the details of how much she was suffering in the months leading up to her death.
I did notice that I have not reached for the phone to call her like I did, constantly, in the beginning. I suppose that’s progress — but it also feels a little disrespectful, as if I’ve forgotten her. I know that may seem silly, but it is what it is.
I have some big changes on the horizon that I’d love to talk with her about. I do miss her counsel. She was odd and oftentimes childlike, but she did have some genius insights.
Anyway, I thought it was fitting to mark the occasion and put in words what I’m thinking and feeling.
I miss you, Mama.
