Twenty Years Without Her

This past Sunday marked 20 years since my mom died after a courageous 13-month battle with brain cancer. Lately, she’s been on my mind more than usual. Grief has never been a straight line—it comes in waves. Sometimes it’s easy to smile at the memories; other times, the ache of her absence hits out of nowhere.

There are days when my heart hurts for no clear reason—except that I just miss her. I miss her laugh. I miss her advice. I miss the way she made everything feel okay. I wish she were here to share in life’s moments, especially the ones involving her grandkids. I often find myself replaying an old recording of her voice, hoping to keep it fresh in my memory. I scroll through photos like the one below, smiling at the fun we had, but also grieving the plans we made for “someday” that never came.

I probably drive my kids a little nuts with all the stories I tell—it's just that part of me deep inside that regrets not knowing all the things I feel like I should have known about her and didn't, and how I don't want my kids to wonder the same things about me someday. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what her favorite flowers were or even who her favorite baseball team was. It’s strange to realize that in just five more years, she will have been gone for as long as I had her in my life.

I had a thought the other day: it’s been 20 years since my life felt “normal.” By that, I mean a life that included my mom. I lost my best friend. The one person who I knew—without a doubt—was always in my corner. And we had to watch her suffer. Thirteen painful months of watching someone you love slowly slip away—it changes you.

For a long time, I hesitated before getting married or having children. I was afraid of loss, afraid of what it might feel like to love someone that deeply again. Or worse—what it would feel like for them to lose me the way I lost her. But thankfully I found a way to remember how good it feels to share that love with someone. We can't protect ourselves from feeling all the pain we go through in life; and a life without the love that makes you feel a loss that deeply just isn't one I could imagine living.

And yet, despite all of it—the grief, the fear, the unanswered questions—I’m profoundly grateful for the time I did have with my mom. We had so much fun. I still remember how crushed I was when I didn’t get into the college I wanted, but now I see it differently. Being home with her during those last healthy years was a gift. Maybe even a divine one. It’s like God knew time was short and gave us that extra season together.

This past week has been an emotional rollercoaster. But underneath the sadness is a deep well of love. That love hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s grown—wrapped around my own children now, who carry her legacy without even realizing it.