I lost my mother on January 25th of this year. She was 84. I wasn't prepared. I'm not sure one is ever prepared to lose someone they love and when you have a wonderful mother, I think you're even less prepared.
One of the ways I try to honor my mother is continuing to talk about her. I remember things she did. I try to cook foods that she did -- even though mine don't turn out quite so good. A silly way I remember her is by wearing a white shirt once a month on the same date of the month as her birthday. It's not much, but it's a memorial. She loved our family in white shirts so we wear a white shirt and remember her.
She was a great mother. She was tender when she needed to be and tough when that was necessary, too. She required us to do our part, but didn't expect more than was reasonable. She worked hard to make our house run smoothly. She was creative. She was frugal. She had a great smile and a great laugh. She always made you feel like she was genuinely thrilled to see you. She welcomed our friends and made them feel love -- sometimes when they felt it nowhere else. She was warm and friendly to neighbors and I particularly admired how she reached out to the elderly.
I've been trying for months to figure out how I would write or talk about her to honor her memory. I believe I've come to realize that words don't do her justice. She was greater than the words I can write.
I miss her.