It doesn't get any easier. Just less difficult, which isn't the same thing.
Five years ago today at around 2 in the morning, I watched you die. Cancer killed you, but not before you gave it one Hell of a run for its money. You faced your disease with a rare courage and dignity, even when it was trying to rob you of it. Yet another reason why you were, are, and always will be my guiding light.
I don't know why I feel the need to let this out publically. I talk to you every day and I know you're there. I know you still do your damndest to watch out for us. We being as stubborn as you were, still insist on doing our own thing, right or wrong, yet I think, in my case at least, you inspire me to make more correct decisions these days.
I think I just want you to be known more, Mom. So many people pass from this Earth, common heroes the lot of them, without anyone other than their loved ones knowing how special they were. Here, at least, I think you can touch more lives in a positive way. I hope knowing your example they do.
You weren't perfect or a saint. I know that. You indulged me too much, you smoked (which, no doubt, added to the disease that claimed your life), you put up with my Dad (who growing up you knew was an abusive, alcoholic prick), and made decisions yourself which weren't healthy or proper. But you also were there for me, for all of us. You made me feel whole, loved, and special. Very important when the world was insistant on telling me otherwise. In many different ways, you made us all feel special. This was your gift.
You used the salty language around us and had a pungeant sense of humor which you passed to me that carried me through the tough times. You were in many ways a strong woman who didn't put up with the crap that the outside world dealt you. You were an independant thinker from a time which didn't churtn out too many of them. You were tolerant and loving, and I surely wish I believed that more of you as a child than I did, for certainly you would have kicked the living shit out of morons one and two.
Mom, I miss you. I truly wish you were here more directly, but I'm content with having you as my guardian and conscience (albeit I ignore you still from time to time - that stubborn streak again!
). I will be content with this until the time comes for me to join you.
You taught me how to read and gave me a love of the written word and knowledge that is truly the greatest blessing, apart from your love and belief in me, you bestowed.
I love you, Mom. Now and forever. Love never dies, it's merely changed. You taught me that, too.
In honor of your life. Lea Rose (Huard) Carr. 1929-1999.