Mom

If my mom were alive today, I know she would be proud of me. I think she would be pissed about all my tattoos especially because they cover my whole arm, but no matter what she would love me anyway. She may not have always been there for me, but she never stopped loving me.

Our relationship seemed to always work better over the phone. In fact, I think 80 percent of my life with her was over the phone. I only remember brief moments when we were face to face. I hold those moments close to my heart; good and bad. It helps me to keep her memory alive. I miss our long conversations though.

I think about her often and I think about how it would have been if she was still here today. She could have been a nana and watched my children grow with me, she could have walked with me through some of my hardest moments and laughed with me through my most joyous occasions.

The harsh reality that I face though is the fact that she is not here. All I have are memories, memories of our conversations, memories of the pain she caused me, memories of the love she gave me. My memories are brief with her, but I carry them in my mind and heart with the up-most value.

I don’t even have a picture of us together, those moments live only in me now. I imagine her waiting for me with Jesus. I imagine that we will continue our long conversations face to face again one day. I imagine when that day comes it will mend the broken piece of my heart that has mom written on it.