Oddly enough, it's when I think about the day that my Mom died that I sometimes feel the most alive.
It's when I remember how sweetly my youngest brother made sure that my Mom was covered up with her blanket, her pillow adjusted just right and the way that he twirled her hair between his fingers(something he has done since he was so little) that I am reminded how precious life is and that memories will last a lifetime, make good ones.
It's when I remember how gentle and caring my second oldest brother was the way he read Mom's text messages to her as they came in. It's when I remember the compassion, gentleness and kindness in his voice that I am reminded how the little things really are the most important things.
It's when I remember the look of pure pain and sadness in my oldest brothers face as we realized the time for Mom to go home was quickly approaching us that I am reminded that the hurt we all felt at that moment and every moment after that is a representation of how much we loved her and always will.
People often ask how we are doing... while I could give a novel-length, detailed answer to this question, the truth is, I just miss my Mom. A lot.
Through my Mom's death, I am learning to appreciate life on a whole new level.
You know the drill, go hug your Mom now.
Love,
Deb's very proud daughter
