Tomorrow is the third anniversary of my mother's death.
We knew it was coming but didn't expect it so soon.
I called her in the hospital that morning from work. I never did this. There was just that pull to do it and she said that she was being transferred to a larger hospital. I asked if I should come. Her responses was, "Jesus Christ, no." I knew she was going to be fine and would call her again once she settled in at Marquette. I told her I loved her and she said she loved me.
Not more than four hours later, she was gone.
I was having lunch with my co-workers. It was my going away lunch as I was leaving to go onto new things.
My sister called me as we were leaving the restaurant.
Mom was gone.
I let out a cry and felt everyone look at me. I didn't care.
My mom was gone.
As much as that woman drove me bat shit crazy. I loved her.
I still love her.
I carry her with me always.
There are days where I wish that there was more time. There are times when I wish I could have been there when she left.
I am so thankful that I made that call the morning.
She left knowing I loved her. She left with me knowing she loved me.
(The photo is me and mom on my 26th birthday. She always bought me glittery sweaters. I hated it but I wore it because I love her.)
