I am truly sorry as well. It's been five years since my mom died -- we got the news while we were vacationing at WDW. My mom fought rhematoid arthritis and other accompanying illnesses for many years. She was actually in the hospital when we left for vacation, but she wouldn't let my dad call me because she didn't want us to cancel our vacation. That was one LONG car trip back to Arkansas.
I remember the anniversaries -- one month, one year, two years. I can truly say there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of her in some way.
I remember once I had a really bad sickness, some kind of lung infection. If my mom were here, she would remember what it was, but I dont. Anyway, this was back in about 1996. I went to the doctor and got my medicine and came home, barely able to walk. I was just about to take the medicine when my mom called. She wanted to know how the doctor visit went, and I told her. I took a pill out of the bottle and was walking with the phone over to get some water to take it when she asked what medicine they gave me. I read the bottle to her, and it was penicillin or something I am deathly alergic to. She told me to put down the bottle and call the doctor. I did, and they told me I could have been in much worse shape if I'd have taken that pill. I've never forgotten that.
So many things have happened that I wish I could tell her about. My oldest child is on the President's List in college, all of my kids are happy and healthy, and I have been promoted three times since then. She was always glad to know I was happy and doing well at my job. I used to call her all the time to ask for advice because while I might have some aptitude at computers, I have zero aptitude at anything else. She was always able to bail me out and get me through.
Even though I can't tell her in person, I know she knows I miss her. Don't ask me how, because as a Systems Engineer, I explain things with computer programs and data, and trust me -- that doesn't compute. But I still believe it.
They say "time heals all wounds". Well, sort of. I used to cry every time I thought about her, and then it changed to a few minutes of feeling really bad, then it eventually changed to just feeling lucky that I had a mother that loved me and cared about me. Today, I see recipes for Mississippi Mud Pie or Sweedish Tea Ring and the memories come back again. To this day, I am still lucky that my mother cared about me and took the time to raise me right. And every time I go see her grave, I cry like a baby.
Hang in there and you'll be fine. I don't have to tell you to remember her and the times you had together, because you'll do that on your own. Your mother would want nothing more than that.
Sorry this got so long. Some of it was hard to write.
God Bless You.