My Mom ( let’s step out of the kitchen for a moment)

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My mom was a technicolor rose.  Sweet and painful all at the same time. She could be vibrant one minute and dark the next.  She had her reasons and life was never kind to her.  We never could find common ground but that never made me stop loving her.  She could hate me with every fiber of her being but the minute I needed her she was there. I would do the same because without her there would be no me.  She made it through so many trials and heartaches just to be snuffed out by a doctor’s needle containing penicillin.  It is not fair, I was supposed to have time to mend our gap.  “Time is precious.” I never fully understood what that meant until now.  She was 46 years old and will remain so for eternity.  My regret does not lie in our inability to get along but in the fact that she didn’t have enough time.  The anger I feel is indescribable. To lose a parent at 30 is not natural.   My sister, her baby, is demolished and I’m doing my best to be here for her because that is my place right now.  It is okay because I know we are all we have. I’m not an openly emotional person.  I was taught, “If it hurts let’s not address it and it will pass.”  I’m on month 1 and the numbness is fleeting while the pain is abundant. I know it is a childish thought but I really never thought she could die.  Jim Morrison once said, “I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps “Oh look at that!” Then- whoosh, and I’m gone…and they’ll never see anything like it ever again… and they won’t be able to forget me- ever.” She was a comet she will never be forgotten. She was like no other person I have ever met and she will live on through her children and grandchildren.   I thank you all for this outlet for my sorrow.

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