In an hour and 40 minutes it will be 6 months since my beautiful mother took her last breath.
6 months, or 26 weeks, or 182 days, since I have been able to tell my mom I love her. It seems like an eternity, but it also seems like yesterday. So much has happened. Parker turned 4, we celebrated Christmas, we turned the page on a new year, a year that she will never see.
Everyday I wake up hoping that this is a dream, that my mom is really still alive and I will be able to talk to her, to touch her, to smell her. And every day that is not the case. The kids still talk about her. Parker still asks if I miss her. The other day my mother in law called, Landon asked which grandma was calling. Not remembering, he only has one grandma now. And even little Alta, who was only 14 months when she died, remembered her when she saw a lady on a scooter in Wal-Mart. Alta quickly looked in the direction of the scooter saying "mawmaw?"
There are so many things that I would have loved to share with her. The way Parker pronounced something, or what Alta can do now, or what Landon is learning in school. I would love to tell her about the baby chicks, since she thought it was so funny and ironic that we had chickens. But she's not there to tell things to anymore. And I have learned to get by without her. I will always miss her, desperately, and I will always wish she was here for me to talk to, but my kids need me there for them 100%. And because of them, life goes on, even without her.