...was the last time I spoke with my mom. Today is my parents anniversary - I believe it would be their 33rd. At this point we knew that she was dying, although the doctors had given us hope that she would be with us for a few more months. Tim and I headed down to Kent after work that day to drop off an anniversary gift - tulips, See The Morning CD by Chris Tomlin, and Lady in the Water by M Night Shymalan. Tim (the other Tim) and Chie had cooked dinner for my parents and when we came in they were eating in the dining room. Mom seemed to be doing really well that day. She was walking, talking, even eating a small amount - something that had been getting more and more difficult. We stayed only briefly, wanting them to have time together, and headed out. Three days later she went Home. By the time I got to her she was unresponsive. The whole family was there, which could have only been by the hand of God, and we held her hands and tried to comfort her until she was with Him.
I really miss her. The silliest things set me off, like not being able to remember a recipe at the grocery store and knowing that she'd be able to tell me what to get if I could just call her. I know that she's finally well, and happier than I can imagine, and that we will one day be reunited, but it's hard. I still cry myself to sleep every so often, but the pain is becoming less sharp, and I know it will continue to lessen as the days go on.
I apologize that my first post is ages is so unhappy, but that's just what I'm feeling right now, and this seemed like as good a place as any to get my thoughts out. Signing out.