An anniversary
Six years ago today, about noon, my mother passed away at 86 from uterine cancer.
She had been in hospice for about six weeks. The day is as vivid now as then, perhaps more so since I was in a bit of a fog then.
Would my mother be proud of me since then? Well, I'm in my mid-60s, so it's not something I have to ponder too much. She and I were/are quite different, almost as opposite as can be, although I sometimes feel the tug of her nature in me, in good ways and bad.
If she hadn't died then, I imagine she might have passed away sometime later, from heart disease; she had suffered a heart attack, but to show you the kind of stock she came from, she drove herself to the hospital three days later and didn't even know she'd had one until they told her. She just didn't feel too well. This was at 80.
I miss her. The death of one's mother, at any age, is not something that can be fully described, understood, or healed from.
She had been in hospice for about six weeks. The day is as vivid now as then, perhaps more so since I was in a bit of a fog then.
Would my mother be proud of me since then? Well, I'm in my mid-60s, so it's not something I have to ponder too much. She and I were/are quite different, almost as opposite as can be, although I sometimes feel the tug of her nature in me, in good ways and bad.
If she hadn't died then, I imagine she might have passed away sometime later, from heart disease; she had suffered a heart attack, but to show you the kind of stock she came from, she drove herself to the hospital three days later and didn't even know she'd had one until they told her. She just didn't feel too well. This was at 80.
I miss her. The death of one's mother, at any age, is not something that can be fully described, understood, or healed from.
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