Looking forward... missing her...

I am missing my mom so much tonight I can hardly breathe. Often I wonder if people get tired of hearing me speak of my mother, and of her death. I mention her a lot, because she was very important to me. She was the woman I looked up to and respected the most. I valued her opinion,and my life was full of experiences with her.

Now, I am at a point in my life when a lot of changes are happening... graduating, finding a new job, considering the possibility of having children fairly soon... and she is not here. She will not be there when I walk across the room to receive my MSN pin, or at my graduation in May. She will not be there for me to call when I find out whether or not I got the job. What hurts most these days is when a laboring mom kicks her mother out of the delivery room. I want to say so badly, "Please, let her stay. Let her see the birth of her grandchild. One day you will wish you had let her stay." I used to say I would not want my mother in the delivery room with me, and now I would give anything in this world if she could be there. It breaks my heart that I will not be able to call her and tell her when I find out I'm pregnant, and it hurts worse that she will never see those grandchildren. I know what it's like to never have known all of your grandparents, and to always wonder what they were like and what kind of wonderful relationship you could have had with them. My children will have to wonder the same things, and I hate that for them. I hate that I will never get to go baby clothes shopping with my mom, and I will not get to experience how she would have spoiled them as she did me.

I heard someone say tonight on a TV show, "I never knew I would still miss my mother when I got to be this old." It kills me to know that in 50, 60, or 70 years, I will still be missing my mother. She will never be there at another Christmas or fix Thanksgiving dinner. She will never come to another one of my Halloween parties, and help me make food while wearing a poodle skirt and wig. She will never be there to call. I can never talk to her on this earth again. And for someone who always spoke about wishing her dead ancestors would try to communicate with her, I have not heard a peep from her. She is nowhere to be found, except in my memory, and that, on nights like this one, is not enough. I need desperately to talk with her.

I want my mama. I miss her.

Lord, from the pain, deliver me.