Everyone who has a mom is probably worrying about gifts, or visits, or dinners they're preparing for the occasion. For them, it's about things, stuff that means they love their mother. What I'm worrying about is the possibility of making someone uncomfortable by saying, "my mom passed away."
I look around the house, and I see all of the presents I got my mom for Mother's Day over the years. Wreathes with dried flowers, figurines, framed poems. Stuff that was supposed to prove I loved my mom, to make sure she knew how much.
Now, that measurement of love is the span of years I've been grieving since her passing. It's been 6 years, and I still miss her. I don't know if I'll ever stop. This leads me to believe that there is Mother's Day in heaven just as there is on Earth. I know that she's been watching over me for the last 6 years, and now I don't have to worry about stuff that means love. I just love. She knows it. Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I love you!
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My name is Nicholas Emeigh, but everyone calls me Nick, and I prefer it. I'm usually called Nicholas when I'm in trouble. I'm from the Philadelphia area, work in business, and fancy myself as a freelance graphic designer, writer, and artist. I have a passion for art in all its forms including music, but I restrict my singing to the shower and the car for the good of society. If you'd like to know more, just send me an e-mail. I really appreciate you stopping by.