Today would have been my Mom’s birthday. No, I don’t know how old she would have been. I never wanted to know her age, I wanted to think of her as that beautiful, ageless, person who was there from the beginning. But I didn’t appreciate her enough.
It was hard, right from the beginning. We butted heads from as far back as I remember. I always thought we were too different. Now I think maybe we were too much alike. All I know is that when she died, she took part of me with her. I’ve “recovered” and moved on with my life, but there are so many times I want to show her something, or share something I heard or saw. My grandchildren, her great-grandchildren won’t know her very well. They didn’t have the chance to know her like I did, like my children did.
I feel her presence right now. Is she, or some part of here, here? You may scoff, but I believe she is. Believe or disbelieve, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just going to go with the feeling.
This is my mom and her mother, my grandmother. I miss them both.