Missing Mom


Today, she would have been 92. Some days, I forget she's gone and I pick up the phone. Then I put it down with a frustrated sigh.

I didn't just lose my mom, I lost one of my dearest friends. So sometimes, it feels like a double whammy of loss, loss where I can actually taste the sadness.

I truly despise that taste.

It’s surreal to think I’ll never be loved like that again. No one in the world will ever love me like my mother did. It was an intense, fierce love that will never be duplicated for the rest of my life. Because a mother’s love cannot be matched.


And that makes me sad. So very, very sad.

Then I think of her in Heaven, and I smile. She’s not hurting or in pain. She’s not worried or stressed. She’s simply experiencing joy – sheer, blissful, incomprehensible joy. She’s spending eternity with my father, the love of her life, and her family of origin, as well as the others who went before her. So she's clearly in that "better place" that people refer to.

I'll bet she's up there laughing. A lot. She really liked to laugh, and I think that's what I miss the most. We could laugh at some of the goofiest, dumbest stuff that nobody else would find funny. Sometimes I couldn’t even catch my breath because the laughter was so deep, so rich within me. Just like her…

So Happy Birthday, Mama -- I love you and will never stop missing you.


Originally published September 25, 2017.