So today it's been 10 years to the day I lost my mom. It's hard to believe it's been 10 years already. It doesn't feel like that long ago. They say time heals, but it really doesn't. You do move on, but you are never the same. The pain is just as fresh.
Unfortunately my mother died during a time when I was going through a considerable amount of angst against the world. We constantly argued. She didn't like how I dressed, my tone, nor my demanding nature. I was difficult. I was becoming my own person with my own opinions. I still am haunted by that guilt though I know as a mom myself now, that my children will probably go through a similar phase. It doesn't mean they love me less.
It took me a few years to stop thinking I could pick up the phone and call her. Years. The dreams of thinking she is really alive and I have been wrong all this time have never stopped. Those dreams make you feel like you are losing your mind. When you wake up, you're relieved that you're indeed not crazy but saddened by the harsh reality that your loved one is gone.
My mother was a good woman. She was abused as a child and had a lot of emotional issues as a result. I give her a lot of credit for ending the circle of abuse with her. She did the very best she could. I always knew I was loved. Only after her passing do I really understand the enormity of her sacrifices. There are many sacrifices I'm sure I will never know.