November 12th would have been my Mom’s 93rd birthday. In Dec 1993, a couple days after she died, I was looking through her photo albums. In my sorrow I was searching for something. I wasn’t sure what, but the search through her photos was almost a feeling of desperation. For days I had been focused on the details and this felt like one more of those that I just had to figure out.
After months of caring for her physical body and having mostly care-related conversations, I wanted more than anything to have her back for just a few minutes so I could tell her how much I still needed her.
On the very last page of a very full photo album, there was one lone picture placed carefully in the center of the page.
and I finally cried.