10 years

10 years seems like a long time. I've done a lot and I've accomplished a lot in those years. But, when I think about my mom's death, 10 years just seems like yesterday. I remember it clearly: The call at 5:45 a.m, sitting up and saying "oh, no!", (I knew that phone call wasn't going to be a good one), going to the phone, then repeating, crying and yelling "no, no, no, no... OH-MY-GOD, NO!". I remember it all as if it were yesterday. I remember the song Africa (by Toto) was playing on the radio. I remember feeling numb and sad and being in denial. I remember thinking how it wasn't fair that a 62 year old woman should die, even if she did battle with cancer for all those years. It just didn't feel like it was her time. Afterall, she wasn't laying in a hospital bed fighting for her life- she was at home, living life. Not the best life, but she was living. I remember thinking how it was unfair that I had lost my mom at 26. I remember, suddenly, resenting everyone who still had their mother. I remember thinking how I wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone- the feeling of never getting over the shock and the the gut wrenching pain of someone calling you to tell your mother just passed away.

I don't talk about her very often but my thoughts and memories make up for that. I don't need Mother's day and Christmas and birthdays to feel sad about her because those are just days and those are meant to be happy days. It's other random days that make me feel sad- like the days when I think about her being in pain or when she was crying. Or, like, the days when I think about what it would have been like to tell her I was pregnant. Or, like, the days when I think about how I wanted to take a picture with her (the last time I visited her), but I didn't. Or, days, when I think about Carys picking up the phone to call her just to say "hello" the same way she does with her other Grand-maman. There are days when I, myself, wish I could pick up the phone to call her and tell her about my day or ask her for advice when Carys has a cold. I don't think my mom would ever want me to be sad on a holiday. She'd want me to make it a special day for my little girls so that's just what I do. I, also, think that she'd want me to think about her all the time, but not with feelings of sadness, but, rather, with feelings of happiness and joy- and that's what I try to do too.

I wouldn't, typically, dwell on her death on the anniversary of her passing, but I can't help but think about it a little more than usual. Maybe it's the number 10 that's making everything about that day seems so vivid. 10 years! It's unbelievable. More than anything, I am sad that my 2 little girls are without their grand-maman and that they'll never be the recipient of her kisses and hugs and her generosity. But, I have a picture of my mom on my nightstand and Carys knows that it's her "other" Grand-maman and that she's in the sky looking down on her. I don't know what life after death is like, but I can only hope and wish that my mom can see her beautiful little grand-children and know that they will always know about her.

I miss you, my sweet mom. I miss you as much as I did when you first left me and I'll miss you just as much tomorrow and forever after that.