Mother’s Day

It’s your day, Mom. 

I remember our last Mother’s Day. I put together a beautiful little fruit plate in the shape of a flower with a caramel candy (your favorite) in the center. You laughed when you saw it when I walked in your room with the blue hand-painted-breakfast-in-bed table. Your ear to ear grin still remains in my mind and I still remember laying next to you, cuddled up and watching earlier morning HGTV recordings with the kittens. 

That was three years ago, though. 

The words “I miss you” don’t begin to encapture what I am feeling. It’s been 876 days and I still reach for the phone to text you for your advice. I’ll still wake up and want to look for you. 

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  
I am missing you. 

There are days when I am hit with the realization that this isn’t normal, that it isn’t normal to have lost your mother to cancer at the feeble age of 14. Those days still hurt. 

I’m still fragile at times but that isn’t often. You’ve made me of diamonds and opals. 

You’ve made me so incredibly strong. Watching you all 14 years, I saw you fight and battle so much. You taught me how to walk, to laugh, to stand up for myself, to preservere, to love. I feel you and your love within me and that has been what has been keeping me up right. 

This Mother’s Day, it’s me, Elise, and Dad. 

We miss you. 

We love you. 

Always. 

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