Today is the day.

1 year ago my Mother died.† I can’t believe it has been a year.

It seems like forever. It seems like yesterday.

There has not been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought of and missed my Mother.† Kei tells me that many nights as I fall asleep, I call for her.

I still see her take her last breath.† I remember how I felt when I walked outside and sat in the garden.† The sun was shining so brightly and I was motherless. I remember thinking that nothing will ever be right again. At times, I still feel that way.

Her death has changed me.† I am more convinced than ever that homeschooling Kei is the right thing.† I want to savor every moment of her childhood.† I hug her more often.† We dance in the kitchen more and sing songs at the top of our lungs. I stop and smell the roses more often.† I try to make better choices. I pray more.† I thank God more.† I watch the beauty of nature more.† I appreciate my Daddy more.† I try to be kinder to people more.

Her death has changed my Daddy.† He is calmer, more accepting of things that donít matter.† He doesn’t stress over things.† How sad that the love of his life had to die, for him to finally understand that life is too short for quick anger.

I talk to her a lot, but sometimes I wish she could answer.† Kei and I talk about her.† I don’t want K to forget her.† Countless times I have needed her, to ask about a recipe, to tell her something Kei said or did, just to ask her a ëmotherí question. This has been a hard year financially for us; and I often I wish I could talk to her about it. I wish she could give me advice. When things were going crazy in my life, she always said, ëDonít worry babe, things will be fineí; and I would say ìPromise meî and she would say, ìI promise.î

I wish I had hugged her more.† I wish I hadn’t ever gotten frustrated with her.† I wish I had spent more time with her. I wish I had her voice on my answering machine.† I wish I could hold her hand.† I wish I could still smell her perfume, I wish she would call me and ask me to make her chicken stew,†I wish I could hear her call me her baby. I wish she could call me and tell me good night.

And a year later, it still hurts so badly and I still need my Mother and she is gone.

Happy Mother’s Day,

Karen