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My mother was a beautiful woman. Growing up, I’ll never forget the times that
she let me wear her wedding ring, simply because it made me happy. I’ll also
never forget the warm Thanksgiving dinners that we had every year, simply
because she wanted to enjoy a nice meal with her children. We went to my
grandmother’s house, and we spent time with my father, but she always made sure
to have one so that she could have that quality time with her children.
Mom was the type of person that always went after what she wanted. Whether it
was family time or a new job, she would fight for it. I saw that same fight in
her for three years as she battled cancer. I’ll never forget that we would go to
the grocery store and she would still manage to cook dinner with me every
Saturday night. She taught me how delicious apple pork chops were. You could
tell when she was feeling a little under the weather from the chemo, but she
would still smile and dance around the kitchen with me. Those were some of my
favorite times with her.
That’s the thing about death. It seems as though there is never enough time.
There is never enough time to plan everything, to say all of the things that we
want to say, or to do all of the things that we want to do. Some people tend to
get lost in that part of grieving, always wishing that there was enough time for
that one last trip to the zoo with their mother and children.
Although we may not have been ready, it was my mother’s time to go though.
God needed her there, and while she will be forever missed, she will never be
forgotten. Her kind words and gestures will remain in our hearts and our
memories. Her love of quality time with her family will continue to be passed on
for generations to come. In this way, my mom will live forever, through our
memories, through the traditions that she made, and through our love for one
another.
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