Six Years and Counting

I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately, though I couldn't tell you why. Sometimes, all it takes is a song to spark a reminder of her in me. Her memory is always in the back of my mind, biding it's time, waiting patiently for me to pay it more attention. It's easy to let the day-to-day tribulations of life get in the way of remembering her and who she was and who she'll never be, but sometimes, it sneaks through.

It's the weirdest thing when someone important in your life dies. Especially when they die before their time. As if we have any say over when it's our time or not, but it's nice to think that we, as humans, have the ability to make those decisions.

April 7 will be six years since she died, and I still can't believe she's gone. I often wonder what she would think of me if she were alive today, wonder if she'd be proud of me and the decisions I've made in my life. I always worked so hard for approval. It meant everything to me. Even at 27, I still find myself wishing she were here to give me advice on things I just don't have answers to. I find that very frustrating. And though I still have so many memories of her, I'd be lying if I said I didn't occasionally forget what it was like to have her in my life. And that makes me so incredibly sad. I know that I will never forget her, but it's the little things about her that I worry about forgetting. I guess I should start writing things down as I remember them. Maybe not so much for myself, but for the future children I hope to have one day. They will never know her like I did, but I hope they can at least have some appreciation for her and who she was. I guess only time will tell.