I'm having a hard time of late. I have been thinking so much about my mother and living quite a bit in the past. It hit me this evening that she died almost exactly six years ago. It is odd how even without thinking about this anniversary, I feel it every year. I feel it so deeply that sometimes I'm not even aware of what is wrong. Not that I don't think of my mother all year round. I do, but this time of year when my thoughts should be of rebirth, I can't get her untimely death and the heart-breaking time of her illness out of my mind. I miss her so. I look at my children and wish they knew her. Parker remembers little things about her, but he was two when she died and I know his memory is fading. Rob's mother died years before we met, of cancer too, way too young. Children should grow up with grandmothers.
I feel selfish about my longing to have my mother with us. People all over the world have such hardships and we have been so lucky in our lives, but I resent the doctors who failed to see the signs of cancer until it was too late. I despise the medical system which failed to make her last weeks more comfortable. I know after six years, I should be at peace with it all, but at time I am not. I want her back. I want her to be here loving my children and spoiling them as only a grandmother can. I want to talk with her daily and share my life with her.
I know it is selfish, but she was my best-friend, I miss her, and I wish she was still with us.