At fourteen I looked around at life and asked myself is this it? I pondered this question for a few days, well a couple of hours, okay, okay maybe half an hour, and then I moved on. Hey I was fourteen, I had things of great import to focus on. Does it mean Evan likes me when he throws my school beret into a tree? I’ve got to have those shoes…just got to. My Dad has to let me go and see that band…or I’ll die. As I said, things of great import. I revisited the question when I was fifteen, then sixteen and seventeen. Is this really all there is? I didn’t dare ask anyone, what if they said yes…it would be too depressing. It seemed as though this was all there was, but I didn’t need to have it confirmed, thank you very much. And so I did…
On Thanksgiving day three years ago my mother passed away. I still miss her. She was always there when I needed her. She came before I called. She didn’t say much when something serious was happening in my life, or when I was sad, or when I cried, or when I hurt so much I thought I might die. She was just there with outstretched arms. Loving me. Did I remember to thank her? If I did, it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. She gave up her life for three months to stay with me during my late husband’s illness, without a murmur, without a sigh. I didn’t ask, she just came. I never had to do anything to deserve her love. She loved me because I was her child. Despite the teen years when I must have caused her pain, despite my moving half way across the…