Saying Goodbye To My Mom

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2014-12-28 14.08.24-minMy mother was a fox.

At 90, when she passed away two and a half weeks ago, she still looked like a foxy angel.

In this picture, we were all on an ocean cruise to Hawaii when I was 13. Here we are coming into the dining room (this is when we all dressed for dinner!).

My dad could never take his eyes off her, and up to the end of his life two years ago, at 99 1/2, he was still talking about how hot and “wild” she was – with a near smirk on his face. In this picture, it almost looks as if he’s whistling at her.

Though I miss her every day, and every single night I remember to call her and then remember she’s not there to call – I also feel like she’s always here. She’s actually nearer than she was, since she’s everywhere at once.

The real prince of my mother’s life, however, in the last 10 years of her life, is my brother. A true zen guru in the clothing of what seems to be a hermit-like man, but really is the clothing of a man who judges no one, has his priorities as straight as they can be, and lives only love.

You may have wondered where I’ve been the last few weeks, and though I was much with my mother and brother, I was mostly with myself.

In a few hours, everything in my life changed. My brother was so close to my mom, with her every day for so many years, watching her, taking her to the hospital while I merely showed up there, finding her a new board-and-care place she could call home that only saw her for one night, he says he’s hardly noticed the transition.

He’s felt it and seen it for a long time.

I think that’s because it takes a long time for loss to creep into our hearts after the first shock of it stuns us.

If you’ve ever lost anyone in any way, my heart goes out to you, and I would be honored to know how it felt for you then, and how it feels for you now.

I believe that there is no end to anything, only change and evolution. That I don’t know what that evolution looks like, for my mom, or for me, or for you, seems unimportant.

I don’t know where any of us are going, yet I do know that it’s possible to enjoy every moment of the ride through….

I know my mother did.

Love, Rori

 

 

 

 

 

39 Comments

  1.  #1Millie on March 14, 2016 at 9:23 pm

    Rori- my heart goes out to you in this time of loss. I was wondering where you were…. Much love to you right now.



  2.  #2Azure Blu on March 14, 2016 at 11:19 pm

    Rori,
    Much love and warm, huggs and prayers for you and your grieving family.
    Your mother’s picture was so lovely, glamorous and classy…and so was the story you shared. Thank you.

    Yes, I have lost a fiance 12 years ago this month…

    I just bought a book by Ken Druck
    “The Real Rules of Life”
    about loss
    and the life long journey of grieving.

    For me there was nothing like the sudden death
    of my finace
    to bring me to my knees
    and leave me there for years…

    Someone I was looking forward to
    spending the rest of my life with…

    We’d only known each other for one year!

    Thanks to the loving care of my friends and family
    I slowly found me again…
    and also because of your Warm, generous sharing of the
    Rori Tools
    I feel more whole than i ever
    have in my life.
    Thank you, Rori.



  3.  #3Sona on March 15, 2016 at 3:43 am

    Hi Rori,
    Sending my love to you …. huggggggggssss



  4.  #4Tee on March 15, 2016 at 5:02 am

    So sorry Rori



  5.  #5Tee on March 15, 2016 at 7:18 am

    Wow, I finally read the article.
    I lost my first child on December 2, 2011. There was no warning, no indication that anything was wrong.

    We all were happy & excited. I was having a boy…a BOY! Boys don’t happen often in my family so everyone was thrilled. E was so happy, he grinned all of the time, kept touching my belly, he would sing and talk to the baby, he’d tickle me and keep track of how many weeks I was, etc

    He also went with me to every appointment, except that fateful one.
    It was supposed to be a routine checkup. E had just done 2 shifts at work so I decided to let him sleep in

    During the exam, they tell me that they don’t hear a heartbeat. My boy, our boy was gone. I had to call my best friend, E, my mom and tell them what was going on through my shock and tears

    Everyone was devastated. The doctors seemed so cold & removed. I felt lost and terrified as they explained that I would have to deliver this deceased boy. A boy that I had fantasized about & dreamed about for years.

    Somehow I managed to do it. My aunt was there in the room, E was there….his eyes red, head down with tears hitting the floor

    They asked me if I wanted to hold my son. I couldn’t do it & that’s something I’ll always ALWAYS feel guilty about

    I couldn’t do it. I was barely holding it together on earth. I found out later that E did see him. My aunt held him & sang to him, etc

    I cried every 15 minutes for about a year. His name was Devon (Devin)
    I cried until my face & stomach hurt and I would vomit. I was suicidal. I took pills and drank. I never told anyone that.

    I didn’t try too hard to end my life because I had a little sister. I think she was 17 at the time. I don’t think she would have recovered if I committed suicide & I loved her too much to do that to her

    I went to grief counseling and it was ok but not sure how helpful. I wanted my son back. On a deeper level, I knew he’d be back but I was extremely brokenhearted. No one knew what to do with me or for me

    Just when the fog was starting to clear a little, my Godfather passed away. He meant the world to me & we worked so hard to repair our relationship, now he was gone too! I felt like my scar was reopened

    I was back to crying again but I couldn’t distinguish between tears for my son or my Godfather

    I felt hurt, alone, lost and once again…abandoned

    I often think that these events made me even more fearful of losing someone/being left

    Devon would have been 4 years old this month :/

    Our Isiah was born August 22, 2013…2 months early via emergency c-section

    It really does bug me that Isiah is alone
    My heart hurts whenever I see 2 little boys around the same age playing together

    Thankfully he doesn’t know this and won’t know this for many years plus he’s such a character that he’ll have a gang of friends…he’s already popular it seems at daycare lol

    Isiah’s middle name is Devon ❤
    E decided that we should honor our first boy that way

    So we have Isiah Devon who we all just adore but I still hurt, I still long for his brother smh

    I wonder how he’d be similar to Isiah, how he’d be different from Isiah, etc
    They’d be 17 months apart

    This thing broke me. It really did. I don’t know that I’ve recovered. I wish he could tell me something. I wish some angel or being could relay a message or a few between us :/



  6.  #6Azure Blu on March 15, 2016 at 7:44 am

    (((TEE)))
    Such a traumatic loss for you and your family…
    much love I’m sending your way…

    Grief is a journey unlike any other…

    and people say it lasts a lifetime…

    loosing a child must be sooo awful…

    Your story, that you have so bravely shared here,
    is so well written and beautiful.

    As far as what you are going thru
    for me -5 yrs- after David’s death
    I was still in the thick of grieving…
    I couldn’t LISTEN TO MUSIC (or I’d cry until I couldn’t see) until 7 years after his death.

    Darling Tee, I’m so glad your sister gave you a reason to live!
    I can imagine this is a BIG part of why you don’t like to go out…
    I too struggled with going out for a long time…
    I’m sure E is grieving also in his own way…
    maybe going out is how HE handles his grief…?

    I was on anti-depressants for 3 years
    Saw a counselor 2-3 times a week for 3 years
    and drank and drank… to keep from loosing my mind.

    It DOES GET BETTER, darling Tee…
    Have you considered a counselor?
    anti-depressants to relieve the pain?



  7.  #7Tee on March 15, 2016 at 8:25 am

    Yes yes yes Azure Blue, I feel like my innocence was shattered. E & I have been through so much!

    We lost a baby.
    I had to have surgery August 2012. October 2012 my sister and I were in a bad car accident. December 2012 my biological father passed away.

    It was rough for a while. I think E lost his mind for a bit. We never *really* talked about losing our son but I know that he did cry on a few shoulders and I know that the surgery & the accident shook him up

    I think my mom almost fainted when she actually saw the car. I still have the picture of the car & it’s a miracle we weren’t majorly hurt. Because of this, my sister really isn’t keen on driving.
    She was still learning how to drive at this point & it was a misjudgement that caused what happened

    I haven’t gone back to any form of therapy, I was beginning to feel like I was using it as a crutch

    It’s interesting because I think I was a little more outgoing before all of this
    Ok sure, I was still a bit insecure but I at least did my hair, got dressed & we’d go out, etc

    That’s no longer the case anymore



  8.  #8Azure Blu on March 15, 2016 at 8:43 am

    (((TEE)))
    this is my UNprofessional opinion…
    getting agrivated easily, major mood swings, not being able to do your hair, get dressed or go out…
    is a sign of depression…
    I would have NEVER considered anti-depressants
    BUT when I couldn’t function and felt my life spinning out of control…
    I was offered them by my counselor.
    after a couple of different kinds
    I took Wellbutrin for 3 years.

    it saved my life (and my families- they really couldnt help me after awhile) and

    Like your family…
    they didn’t know what to do to releave my suffering and deep depression…

    It feels to me like you are asking your friends and family to help emotionally in areas they
    ARE NOT TRAINED for…



  9.  #9Angela on March 15, 2016 at 8:58 am

    Azure Blue, It felt so good to read your comment on depression and medication Wellbutrin.
    I can relate. I think all the things you mentioned do point to depression.
    My therapist and then psychiatrist recommended I take Wellbutrin and though it has been a life saver in the past. It could possibly be the reason why some of my hair fell out so Im a little nervous to continue taking it.
    I know i am in a dark place and know, or dont know how i can help myself.

    And Rori I am so sorry fro your loss I can’t imagine how that must feel like. 🙁

    This January my bf’s father passed away. And my bf with me by his side decided to take him off life support on the advice of the doctor.
    At first it was a wave of sadness knowing I would never see him again.
    I felt so vulnerable and moved that I cried for hours that morning.
    Then I felt the guilt, what if we would’ve hold on a few more days and he would’ve gotten better?
    What if, I’m saying this for the first time, we somehow ended his life.
    I felt so much Guilt for many days.
    And then I had to snap out of that. I felt I had to be strong and never allow myself to go down that path again. Again I’m sorry for your pain and loss. Hope you find comfort in those you love.



  10.  #10Tee on March 15, 2016 at 9:23 am

    #7 You know Azure Blue, there has always been a little tiny voice that’s suggested that maybe, just maybe I am depressed and maybe I’m not over….something.

    I guess I could look into this because it seems like my life just hasn’t been the same since 2011/2012

    I thought that I could WILL myself into a better state but you’re right, I’ve been trying to get E to do it, etc

    One of the coolest people that I’ve met during the whole pregnancy ordeal was a nurse who runs a non-profit women’s center…I haven’t spoken to her in ages. I’ll call her later today & see what she has to say 🙂



  11.  #11Azure Blu on March 15, 2016 at 10:16 am

    Angela…
    I am So sorry to hear of your emotional pain…
    but so glad you are feeling some relief with
    the anti depressant…

    So often people are afraid to mention any medication used for emotional pain…

    I believe it is healthy to talk about it…

    it is an issue that needs to see the light of everyday!

    My friends seemed very uncomfortable when I would bring the subject up…
    I believed, in the interest of changing an age old stigma… I should softly and openly share my journey.

    It is something to be proud of…
    I am so glad I was able to find one (and the dosage which I discovered was half of the pill they were prescribing) that fit me, my weight and my emotional makeup.

    I think i realized I was soooo needy
    talking and talking to my family and
    friends everyday ALL day….
    trying to fill the void and relieve my pain,
    deep traumatic anxiety and suffering.
    I had to STOP that… and so I found the counselor and the anti depressants!
    as I mentioned – yes – a life saver!!



  12.  #12Azure Blu on March 15, 2016 at 10:21 am

    Angela…
    About your hair loss…
    For me, I find I loose a lot of hair
    when going thru trauma, deep anxiety or loss…

    actually My anti depressant stopped my hair loss..
    (that was 11 years ago)

    Last year, after I broke up with my bf… I experienced so much hair loss it was frightening… and I wasn’t on anti depressants… I was just extremely sad and heart broken.



  13.  #13movingmagic on March 15, 2016 at 11:16 am

    I lost a partner and friend to leukemia at the tender age of 24. The grief was deep and rooted.
    It’s been many years since we lost him, and though the sadness has softened, and faded over time I still carry his memory with me.
    I’ll have moments here and there…a song, or someone with a similar look or presence.



  14.  #14movingmagic on March 15, 2016 at 11:20 am

    I’m a dancer and performance artist. Most of my acts have a haunting feeling, or hint of sadness in them. I think I channel my loss into my creations. It’s my way of staying connected with that part of myself.
    I believe in honoring my ghosts.



  15.  #15Indigo on March 15, 2016 at 11:35 am

    movingmagic,

    It’s really nice to see you back here. You’ve been missed.

    I love what you’ve written here about honouring your ghosts. I believe the same. I am sure it is one of the reasons I am so drawn to the Irish culture, they incorporate melancholy into so much of their music and cultural traditions, they celebrate it, it is a part of their soul, not something to be repressed or overcome. I love this. I live with my griefs and sadnesses. They are my friends. They inform my feelings and flavour my words and actions.



  16.  #16movingmagic on March 15, 2016 at 11:38 am

    Ohhh I love that Indigo!
    A sweet melancholy.



  17.  #17Rori Raye on March 15, 2016 at 12:56 pm

    Azure, Tee, Angela, movingmagic, indigo, thank you so much…and love to you each…

    Tee – I’m with Azure here – please get seen! Depression can be treated in many different ways now – from Chinese herbals to physical therapy, to psychic healing, to western drugs…and ANYTHING is better than still feeling the way you’re feeling….

    Please let us know what you find and what works for you….

    Movingmagic – thank your for your lovely sharing, the gorgeous “honoring your ghosts” image…

    Indigo – I love how you talk about “living with” sadness and grief as a part of living fully…

    Angela, guilt is part of our human reactions, it’s how we live with these feelings that count…I know you and your bf did the exact right thing…

    Love, Rori



  18.  #18T-Girl on March 15, 2016 at 1:29 pm

    Rori I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your mother.



  19.  #19MT on March 15, 2016 at 2:26 pm

    Hugs from me, Marie



  20.  #20movingmagic on March 15, 2016 at 2:29 pm

    Loss is so raw and real.
    (Hugs to everyone who has felt it).
    May we all find a way to work through the layers, honor, and find peace with its touch.



  21.  #21CurvySiren10 on March 15, 2016 at 4:08 pm

    My condolences to you Rori….what a lovely tribute to your beautiful, siren-y mom 🙂



  22.  #22Toasty G on March 15, 2016 at 5:14 pm

    When someone’s dies all the places in the family move. In many ways it takes away the buffer between you and death and here it is. Your post sounded very peaceful Rori it was very beautiful to read. I lost my father to suicide and it is a complicated grief but I think all grief has many aspects. Some are touching and poignant and some petty and ugly but feeling them all is part of the journey and the challenge of constantly expanding. Love to you.



  23.  #23MissStix on March 15, 2016 at 8:23 pm

    Sorry for your loss Rori. Your mom sounds like a great lady.



  24.  #24MissStix on March 15, 2016 at 8:29 pm

    I have only one person close to me who passed away. With his death I also lost the sense of who I was to him. I felt lost at that time. I was close to leaving my husband. Maybe his passing gave me some of what I needed to do that.



  25.  #25Indigo on March 15, 2016 at 10:14 pm

    Thank you Rori. And my heartfelt sympathy on losing your mother.

    I find loss nearly unbearable. I don’t really know how I did bear it. But I know one of my most essential tendencies is to curl within myself, I generally don’t reply to any phone calls or messages for a few days and I do my best to shut other people out. The feeling of grief in my head is so loud it is all I can think about. I feel as if I really need to be alone with my memory of that person for a while. In those moments I don’t even care if everyone else disappears altogether. Slowly, when I’m ready, I can see other people, but I can never talk about it much. It feels easier for me to tuck it into my heart and take it with me than to let go.



  26.  #26Rori Raye on March 16, 2016 at 10:52 am

    Indigo, thank you…Love, Rori



  27.  #27MissStix on March 16, 2016 at 11:10 am

    Indigo

    I feel the same about talking about it and tucking it away in my heart.



  28.  #28April Rose on March 16, 2016 at 2:40 pm

    Oh Rori, sweetheart,

    I’ve just read your post, and your beautiful tribute to your Mom, and what I am feeling is “my gosh, what a connected and open-hearted family”. Each one of you sounds like a piece in a perfect puzzle, connected whether in life or in death. Connected through love.

    Thank you for this expression of love.

    May your Mom and Dad continue in their ever-expanding journey through love, in love, becoming pure love. And may the mystery of this life, this death, continue to nourish you and that part of you that opens to receive the unknown in all its magnitude and wonder.

    I feel, as ever, deeply inspired by you Rori.



  29.  #29Azure Blu on March 16, 2016 at 2:44 pm

    April Rose,
    Love your comforting words so much

    ““my gosh, what a connected and open-hearted family”. Each one of you sounds like a piece in a perfect puzzle, connected whether in life or in death. Connected through love.”



  30.  #30Mandy on March 16, 2016 at 3:21 pm

    Awww.

    Rori, I feel the same about my grandmother and mom.

    In fact I’ve stated several times my mom just naturally gets the Siren thing, and has it down to a science. She just always has, being a high-value woman, not investing too much into when someone tells her she’s pretty but also keeping herself up, walking away from someone when they are nasty with her, having clear boundaries, etc.

    I was very upset when my grandma passed earlier than expected, and when I brought a Tiger Lily to her grave last summer I had some closure…it felt awful when I was there but it was something i needed to go through…when someone lives frar away it takes away the grieving and so when you go to see they really are not there, you grieve…



  31.  #31Lovergirl on March 16, 2016 at 10:02 pm

    Rori- I am so sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. That is so hard. The picture of her is lovely and she was so lucky to be so loved. So many of us would be so happy to have a man adore us that way. What a wonderful example for all of us.



  32.  #32Tereana on March 18, 2016 at 7:13 am

    Rori, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry to hear of your mother’s loss. And what a wonderful tribute to her. It is certainly understandable that you would take some time for yourself. Two and a half weeks really isn’t a lot. You will need a year, or more, to really feel all of it. And after that, the rest of your life. The loss doesn’t really go away. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s part of what keeps the feeling of her with you.

    And all of the tools that you’ve taught us, and how to feel feelings and the soup, and move through all of that…well, now you have a richer soup.

    Be well



  33.  #33Zara on March 19, 2016 at 8:20 am

    Rori, the picture is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

    May Universe keep you and your loved ones comfortable through our magical evolving.

    With love,
    Zara xxx



  34.  #34Scarlet on March 19, 2016 at 5:52 pm

    Rory, I am so sorry for your loss. The loss of a mother is so very devastating. For me it felt like it was the last person on earth who loved me unconditionally. I think only a mother can do that, so when she is gone, it’s a very lonely feeling. I lost my mum 6 years ago now. That came after also losing my dad and, like Tee, losing a little boy in utero. For you Rori, I say that your mum is truly closer to you now. I feel that my mum is around all the time. I feel closer to her now – like we finally understand each other – than when she was alive. It’s a beautiful feeling, after the initial feelings of grief have been felt and settled into our being.
    And Tee – forgive me for commenting when I don’t know you, but I know depression intimately. I know the feeling of not wanting to be here. I know the feeling of not wanting to take medication because it doesn’t feel like it will help. But it honestly does. I went back on Lexapro recently and the way I look at the world, my problems and my loneliness is totally different now. I can see and feel joy again. I wish you peace Tee.



  35.  #35Lotus on March 20, 2016 at 9:54 am

    Dear Rori, I’m so sorry to hear your very sad news of losing your mum. My heart goes out to you and your family. She sounded like a captivating woman, so lucky to live a long life too surrounded by her loving family.

    I too lost my mum 11 years ago at 63 years old.. too young. She was also captivating, beautiful, outgoing, funny, warm.. she’d light a room up. My heart broke when she passed away, I cared for her for a year and we became friends through that final journey together which helped heal our relationship, which had felt quite hard during my late teenage years. I remember literally everything went grey for a few days and for a long time I struggled to accept her passing, I felt angry at times and even fell out with God and stopped going to church. Life felt very unfair.. I felt a hole in my heart, and gradually through the years, I have learned to love myself more and those around me, and I remember on her funeral when my Godmother told me, my mum will always be in my heart. And it’s true, I can call upon her at anytime, I feel her in my heart and I am blessed with her love and dreams in my sleep. The love never goes away, and grows to become more love for myself and others.

    I remember reading a poem about a rose garden, sadly I haven’t been able to find it for you though. It’s about the most beautiful rose being picked by God for heaven. This seems to bring me some comfort, knowing that she can continue to bloom through her spirit, and that all her teachings can remain with me and when I become a mother. I feel inspired to be a loving mother.
    xoxoxo



  36.  #36IamHis on March 22, 2016 at 8:26 am

    Beautiful tribute, Rori. I am so sorry for your loss.

    I feel my grandmother who I lost this summer, much in the same way.

    Somehow I know she is happy & dancing. She was always happy, silly, and dancing…



  37.  #37Daria on March 27, 2016 at 7:21 pm

    Oh Rori … sobs and hugs



  38.  #38Suzanne on March 29, 2016 at 1:27 pm

    Rori, I landed on your blog for the first time today. Very interesting. Please accept my condolences on the loss of your mother. My mom left us 2 years ago and I still miss her every day. The tears don’t come as often, but they do still come. To help with my grief I do a little writing. The following is a small example.

    A Conversation with Mother
    The dreaded call came on February 12, 2014. “We think you should come; Mom is not doing well.” The time had come for my mothers’ transition from this life to the next. Little did I know how measureless the events in the following days would become?
    Mom was yet again suffering from aspiration pneumonia; something which had been plaguing her for the past few years but exacerbating greatly in the previous six months. Mom had agreed to enter a hospice care program and decided she no longer wanted to keep fighting that insidious infection which would eventually claim her life. I have chosen to believe it as the vehicle with which Jesus used to fetch my mother home to Him.
    We packed my bags and headed south hoping that she would wait for us. Mom was still alive; not unconscious but not awake either. She was responsive to touch and conversation through finger squeezes.
    The following days were long; listening to the continuous hum of the oxygen machine, the agonizing sound of my mother laboring to breathe, knowing death was looming. Too soon…too slow…too what? How was I to bare my mothers passing? I simply could not imagine.
    February 15th dawned cold and overcast with our hospice nurse telling us she was seeing none of the signs indicating death was imminent and that on occasion a patient may go into a holding pattern for several days. My body and mind were utterly exhausted and upon hearing that I decided to try and get some sleep. Unexpectedly, I woke up several hours later feeling much better. A shower was in order and immensely enjoyed. It was the best I felt since leaving home three days prior but missing my husband so very much.
    Evening had come and Moms room was bathed in the soft glow coming from string lights my sisters had so lovingly hung around the windows in Moms new home. Praise music was playing softly in the background. We also had my mothers’ favorite rosary CD playing. Mom prayed her rosary several times a day and was devoted to the Virgin Mother. She always said that Jesus was a “good boy” and always listened to His mother. The Holy Spirit was a palpable presence in the room. My sister was praying across the bed from me.
    Mom seemed to be anxious, restless…and my daughter had a few thoughts earlier in the day which I believe were absolutely correct. Sitting at the left side of Mothers bed, very close to her I was able to whisper in her ear, reminding her very quietly about this experience we have on Earth called life. We are all fallen and sinful people who have been hurt and have hurt others. What we must remember is when we get to heaven all of the hurt and evil that has been a part of our life will be changed. That we will be transformed into the individuals God designed us to be; not the sinful people we have become but the loving, kind, gentle souls we were meant to be, living in the presence of our heavenly Father, His Son Jesus, and His Holy Spirit along with those who have gone before us. God gave me a sense that Mom truly understood that truth……and then it happened.
    The voice in my inner soul said to me “tell your mother this; My Mother and I are waiting to escort her to heaven.” I was astounded. At the same instant another thought came to me and I asked Mom to please open her eyes when she saw Jesus and His mother. The words were scarcely out of my mouth when she opened her eyes and stared intently at the upper corner of her room. Her mouth opened as if she was seeing the most astonishing sight she had ever seen. At the same instant a radiance similar to mother of pearl came over her face making her utterly beautiful…. and she was gone.
    The funeral home had been notified earlier in the evening however we had several hours sitting in Moms room reminiscing; enjoying having Mom with us for a few hours more. Little by little, time had come for the funeral home to arrive for Mom. It was perhaps 1:00 am, however time had no significance and I am not certain about that.
    In fact I couldn’t tell you what time it was when Mom went to heaven. Our funeral director was so kind and accommodating however, he did insist that we wait outside her room while they were preparing her. The others waited at the exterior door to see her off. I could not go there. Alone, I stood waiting as Mom was wheeled from her room. Her beautiful face was covered with part of the blanket she was wrapped in. It was then that I asked for one last moment with my Mother. As I removed the face covering I was again struck by how beautiful she was. My tears fell hot and hard, drenching her face as I leaned down one last time to kiss her cheek and caress her face. Knowing it was the last time was utterly heart wrenching.
    My Mother and I were once again alone together just as it was in the beginning; Mom and me….her first born.



  39.  #39nicole on April 11, 2016 at 8:41 am

    I lost my beautiful mother, my best friend, confidante, partner in crime, this past September , and she was only 62 years old. I am her only chid, the only chid, so you can imagine our bond was pretty incredible and unbreakable . My heart still bleeds and yearns for my mother everyday, even though it is a little better now, I cannot imagine a whole lifetime without my best friend, and the only person in this world who loved me unconditionally, and wholly, and completely. I wish prayers of comfort to anyone who has lost their dear mother.