Feb. 5th is the worse day of the year for me. Fifteen years ago I lost my mother that raised me. She fell ill and two days later she passed out in a Dr office and died in my arms with my eleven year old son and my dad standing there. I sat on the floor and held her in my arms and knew she was gone. I wanted to scream and cry and make her come back and all I could do was be strong for my dad and my son. All we had from the beginning was the four of us in our little family. I was raised an only child and so was my son. So we were a very close little family and now our very core had been shattered. Now fifteen years later and I'm still shaken when I think of this day being near and I cry and relive that day over. I wonder if I might have done anything to make her proud of me, if she would have been disappointed in me? Would I have ever left Pa and moved to Georgia nine years ago to start life over? How much of my life would be different? I know my son would have been different because he changed so much after he lost his grandma. BUT we can't go back and change what happened. Only move forward and do what I think would have made her proud now. Talk to her and tell her I love her still and miss her...
