Today would have been my mom's 72nd birthday had she not died all too young at 50. I just went and bought some flowers for her. I think it's more fitting to celebrate her life than remembering the day that she died. I loved her so much but it's been so long since I saw her I often feel sometimes that I never had a mother at all. Twenty-two years of soldiering on will do that to a person I guess.
I bought pink and orange tea roses with some purple and green flowers mixed in. I think she would have liked them. I'm hoping she can see them wherever she is and that they make her smile. What I wouldn't give to share just one more cup of tea with her and chat like we used to do. Or hear her say my name again. To see her laugh so hard that tears would stream down her face like they sometimes did. Or have her tuck me in, kiss me goodnight and run her hand over my forehead.
She was such a quiet woman but steely in ways I did not realize until she was gone. She gave me a love of beauty and taught me kindness. Her name was Grace, which was so fitting for the woman she was.
Loving her and then losing her made me who I am.