September 22, 1918 was a big day in my life. It was the date of my mothers' birth which made it possible that I enter onto this earth one February day many years later.
Mom passed on December 1st, 1999. A part of me was lost on that day. Only our mothers and fathers know us all our lives. When they pass on they take the history known only to them of our entire life. I miss not having that person around. Who does one go to for answers now?
I can't ask about her ancestors; our ancestors. So many times occasions appear where I would like to phone mom and ask her some questions. All those stories she told, I should have recorded them. I should have taken pen and paper in hand and wrote what she said. I didn't and I regret it now.
The first three or four years after she passed away, I would think of something I wanted to ask her and reach for the phone only to remember I couldn't make that call.
Do we really ever get over the loss of a parent? We learn to live with it. Happy Birthday Mom. I miss you.