I saw a quote once that said something along the lines of, “you realize how much your mother loves you when you find a box filled with every drawing from the age you could pick up a crayon till present.” I recently was going through some things at my parents’ house and found that box, filled with pictures I had drawn from preschool up.
That was my mom; she cherished everything we did. She supported my brother and I so much that, when I was a junior in high school and it came time to fill out college applications, she sat right next to me and practically did them for me. She wanted the best for us, and she gave us her best in return. I remember as a little girl snuggling with her on the couch, looking at the rings on her hands, and wishing that one day I would have hands just as beautiful as hers. Now, I look back and I wish that one day I could be half the mother she was to us.
She was there for me when I would call (quite often) homesick at college. She was such a good listener, and always had wonderful advice. However, while she would offer sympathy, she would also tell me to buck up—and in the scheme of life, this is not that big of a deal. She would say, “get out a good cry, go to bed, tomorrow’s a new day.”
And she was right.
I miss her a lot, and what I struggle with the most is trying to remember my mom as she was before she was sick. She was sick for twenty months, and through those twenty months my mom stayed so strong. There is a country song out right now entitled Tough that states, “I thought I was tough.” The song sums up my mom’s last twenty months. The singer is talking about his wife and how she is dealing with breast cancer, how she goes about her daily routine while fighting for her life.
