I think about my Mom every day, but this time of year is when I especially ponder what she meant to me when she was here.
On July 24, 1986, my Mom went to be with God after a lengthy ordeal with breast cancer; nine years, to be exact.
Mom was never the type to wallow or give up. What she achieved in life, especially following diagnosis, is nothing short of phenomenal. She gave 100% as a wife and mother. She was strict, but always loving and supportive.
She went to Nursing School in her mid-thirties, earned her R.N. and later became a Lamaze Educator because she loved being around new parents and their babies. She was a dedicated church and community volunteer. Throughout many bouts with chemotherapy, surgeries and related challenges, her spirit never faded.
My dad was a hero in all this as well—he administered care typically reserved for nursing staff. His devotion was unwavering. Their marriage was an example of what I aspired to.
I know Mom is alive and well in the Afterlife, and though I wish she were still here (whole and healthy, of course), I know that things happen for a reason. I look for signs that she is around me. It is said that there are no coincidences. I miss her physical presence every day.
I could fill a book with all that my Mom means to me and the effect she had on this world. I am comforted by knowing I will eventually see her again, and that Dad will be reunited with his sweetheart.