It’s been a hard three months since my mother passed away but I’ve been trying to stay strong. We shared some great times in her last year, and I know how much she loved me. Her last words to me were “it wasn’t your fault.” I’ve been hoping to hear her say that for so long, she’d implied it at times, but she never actually said it. It felt so good to hear it from her-that even after everything that happened she didn’t blame me.Maybe it’s strange, but it almost made losing her easier, just because I knew. I knew that in her eyes I wasn’t a failure. I knew she didn’t blame me or hate me. And I knew she was still proud of me, I was still her little boy.Funny how that works, I’m almost fifty years old and I still sometimes wish I could curl up in her arms and pretend that I’m a child again. I guess that’s how it is with mothers, it never changes. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be with fathers too, I just never had the chance to know. If I’d ever had kids, I would’ve done it differently.My God, I still can’t help but stare at you sometimes.
