Mom, Grandma and Me - 1992
I still don't like today. There's nothing about June 12th that I like. My Mom died on this day at 2:45 p.m. five years ago.
I don't cry about it as often. I don't expect it to be her on the phone. But, when I let myself feel it or when it hits me without me expecting it - it hurts just as bad as it did five years ago.
I haven't been to her gravesite in at least two years now. I hate going. I hate it for the same reason I hate today. I hate thinking about her death. I hate the pain I feel when I think about her absence.
I really do try to focus on the memories of her life. In the picture above we are in Honolulu, HI. It was 1992 and Mom was the same age I am today. Mom, Grandma and I are all decked out in our tourist gear - check out the fanny packs. I'd lost one of my hard contac lenses. Mom felt so bad for me wearing my glasses and squinting in the bright sun, not able to wear sunglasses. She paid who-knows-how-much to have my prescription contac lens sent overnight mail to us at the hotel the next day. She loved me.
She loved me like I love my daughter. I thank her everyday for that. I'm the mother I am today because of her. I thank you, Mom, for the choices you made to always love me. I am comforted every day when I look at my daughter. Somehow, it helps me to cope in the loss of you. She is such a blessing in so many ways and brings such light to our lives to help ease the pain of our losses.
I will always love you. I will always miss you. I will never forget.
Katherine Lee Wallis - 7/29/55 - 6/12/07