Sunday, July 12, 2015

Sixteen Years

Every year around this time, I consider to myself "I don't think I'll blog about my mom this year." You see, there's nothing new I can ever write about and I wonder if anyone really wants to hear the same thing again. So I write for myself. If no one ever were to read this, that would be okay because this is one way that I am able to keep her memory alive in my heart. The memories are still there, thanks to photo albums, cook books and a gold heart shaped locket that once was hers. But, the pictures of her are frozen in time, never changing or aging as we have been doing. 

Like I wrote last year (and now, the remainder of this post is from last year), I wish I could, just for one day go back in time and retain more of what she was like. I would write about her life, her childhood, her stories. I would record her voice so I could hear say words of encouragement and tell me she loves me. I would take more pictures of the two of us and more with my siblings together. When someone passes away, there are no more photographs. You only have those that you've taken and can hang on to those precious memories. My mom was always behind the lens of the camera so there are actually very few photos of her. One fall day, we booked a photographer and had our family pictures done. My dad had requested an individual picture of my mom and the photographer managed to capture every ounce of beauty that my mom possessed.

She was beautiful inside and out. She took great care in how she looked and was always well made up. Even till the very end. She loved her family passionately and took great care of us. Family was very important to her and we all knew it. She always enjoyed a good cup of tea and was willing to drink it with just about anyone who would sit with her.

When I write about my mom, I feel like I write the same things over and over. I want people to know how much I love her and how much she is missed. Even after sixteen years, the ache is still deep in my heart as I remember the woman who was such a critical part of who I am today. I often wonder what would she think of me and how I'm doing things? I can only hope and imagine that she'd be delightfully proud of me, Doug and our kids. 

As I finished writing this post, Sarah looked over at this picture and said "Dat's you Mum!" When someone says something like that, I take it as one of the highest compliments. 

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