Ben and I took the kids to the Ecotarium again (did I tell you about the first time?) and we decided to have lunch there.
When I walked into the “Cafe”, the sterile smell of the air in the room hit my nose and I was immediately caught off guard.
My vision narrowed and I was thrown back into a memory from when my mom was in the hospital during her last week of life.
I felt like I was walking into that hospital cafeteria all over again. Then it flashed to my mom in her hospital bed upstairs, fading away.
It felt like such a kick in the gut, but I was ok. I told Ben about it and he held me close. I was grateful for the hug, and the fact that I was able to get through that hard moment without breaking down.
I still think about her a lot, but it’s easier to deal with now. I still cry about her every once in a while, but it’s not every time I see or hear her name. Or every time I look at a mother’s day card.
I’m dreading the moment when something big comes a long (like I have another child, or I go back to school and graduate from college) and I want my mom there for it. I hope things wont unravel again.
I keep meaning to write a book for each of my children, so they can have a keepsake of advice, pictures, etc from me when I die. I think it would have been nice to have something like that of my mom’s. Where she is talking to me.
At least I was able to say goodbye to her. Some people don’t get that chance.
I got to tell her I loved her one last time.
That makes me happy.








