Today marks eight years since the death of my mother from breast cancer.
Does this ever get any easier? Will it always feel like an unhealed, open wound, pulsating with pain after being prodded?
My mother wasn't just a mom. She really was my best friend. People were forever telling me how lucky I was to have a mom like mine, and well I knew it. She was one in a million, and I still feel her loss as keenly today as when it happened, eight years ago.
I rarely wish I was back in Ohio, but every year on this day, I wish I was well enough in to take the summer heat in Dayton, just so I could lay flowers on her grave. So I could be with people who knew her and loved her like I did. And do.
I was very lucky to have her. I miss her so much....