My Mom died three years ago tonight. I miss her so much.
On the one hand, it seems like forever since she's been gone. It's getting harder and harder to remember just how good it felt to hug her, or how lovely she smelled when she was getting ready to go out. I can still see her smile, but I'm losing the feeling of joy that I used to get when I saw her flash it. Don't get me wrong -- the memories will never leave me, but their vibrancy is starting to fade slightly. Thank goodness I can still hear her voice now and again just be calling her old cell phone (my Dad now uses it) -- we left her original recordings of her outgoing messages in place just so we could keep that little bit of her near enough to ring up when we needed to hear her voice. Sometimes I find myself calling my Dad and secretly hoping to get his voice mail just so I can hear my Mom one more time. It's been a lifetime since I talked with her.
The hurt from losing her, however, is just as raw as it was the day she died. I often find myself crying because it just hurts too damn much that she's not here with us anymore. They say that time heals all wounds, but I don't think the "they" who coined that phrase had ever dealt with losing their mother. That's a wound that will be open in me for a long, long time.
My parents' song was a WWII classic called, "We'll Meet Again." I can only hope that's the case, and that I will be able to be near her again -- somewhere, sometime. She brought too much to me to be ready to let myself believe that she's gone away from me for good.
I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything, especially the unconditional love. You mean the world to me.