Early this morning, a little after 3:00 a.m., I was shaken awake by my Dad. I knew that if he was there, waking me, that it had happened. Dad told me my mother had died just a few minutes before. Today is the day that my mother died.
In an odd way, I don’t want this day to end. I was just with my mother late last night. She was here, alive. Every day that passes sends me farther and farther away from the day that my mother was alive, the day when I could still kiss her and tell her that I love her.
