My mother told me once that you never stop missing your mother. My grandmother died when I was fourteen. My mother never stopped wanting to call her, wanting to hear her voice, and thought about her all the time.
In June, my mother would have turned 85. She has been gone for almost three years now. I have never stopped wanting to call her, wanting to hear her voice, and I think about her all the time. This morning I woke up thinking I wanted to give her a call. But the phone doesn't reach that far. If only it did.
She was right. I will never stop missing her. She was one of the sweetest souls I have ever known. She was warm and friendly with everyone, always supported me, and always believed in me - even when no one else did. I miss her laugh most of all, and I remember that even in the hardest of times, her sense of humor carried her through.
She would have loved the job I started in June - in fact, not only is it a direction she wanted me to go in, I think she somehow had a hand in it. And she knew I wanted to write since I was three years old, and she never let that dream die.
It's funny how we always want just a little more time with people we have lost. We love them so much and think if we could just have that extra time...But, we know deep down, no matter how much time we were granted, it would still never be enough.