11 years

My mom and her twin Mary.

I lost my Mama 11 years ago today.

For some reason, in the last year, I have begun to feel the loss of my Mom more acutely again.  I mourn the adult relationship I could have had with her. The wisdom she could have imparted. The love she could have given.  My faith tells me that she is not gone, and can be a powerful intercessor for me.

But that doesn't mean I don't miss her hugs, the way she would give special little gifts or notes of encouragement at random, the way she would listen to me.  I saw one of my littles looking at my hands during Church one day and it reminded me of looking at hers when I was small.

I needed a copy of my birth certificate to get a new driver's license and when I saw her signature at the bottom, I had an unexpected burst of fresh mourning.  Her handwriting.  A few letters I have that she wrote to me in college are some of my most cherished possessions.  My memories. Some pictures.  These are the things that remain of the woman who carried me under her heart for 9 months, gave birth to me, held me when I was sad, prayed for me, hoped for me.