Over the past weeks I've been trying not to think about June 15th too much but I've come to accept the fact that this day will forever arrive and it will always be the day that my mom died.
It's been a year since I lost my mom to cancer and let me tell you - grief is not fun. It doesn't help you get work done or meet people. It doesn't make you want to leap out of bed and face all the challenges of your day. Food is suddenly boring, reading is a chore, movies are meaningless and even music can't clear your head. And that's the easy stuff. Nothing could have prepared me for the struggle to find myself again after losing someone so important to me. Or the anguish that grips my chest when I think about her.
My mom was crazy. And good. And loving. And giving. She couldn't sing in tune but she sang loudly anyway and she cooked a mean bunch of Italian food that my friends grew up coveting. She would have yelled and laughed about me posting this photo of her but it's the last one I ever took and it kind of encompasses her mild insanity and sweet humor. That's bread that I had just baked and she wanted to bite it. Go figure.
My mom took a lot of me with her when she left but she gave me more than I could have ever hoped for while she was here. Love you mamma.