Nine Years

When I was a kid, I was sometimes afraid of her. When I was a teen, I was ashamed of her (I was a stupid teen). When I was an adult, she became my best friend.

Nine years ago today, she died.


She left a hole in my life that I will never really fill - no one can ever replace a mom. But at least it doesn't hurt me anymore to think about her. I can remember the good stuff now, the stuff worth remembering. We used to go shopping almost every Saturday. She used to like to go into the arcade at the mall, and put quarters in the crane machine until she had a few toys to take home to Baby, my dog. She used to call me every day just to talk.

In one of the last days before she died, I was sitting next to her bed, and she traced my face with her hand, like she was memorizing it. I felt the ghost of that touch for a long time after she was gone.

I love you, Mom. I miss you every single day. I wish you could have been here long enough to meet J. You would have loved him - he wishes he could have taken you to a Yankees game. I hope you're seeing that I'm happy.

Nine years went both very fast and very slow. I will miss her forever.