Three Wooden Crosses

Even though it has been almost four years, every now and then something will happen that makes those years vanish in an instant. Tonight that something was a song. I was listening to my Ipod (on shuffle) and happened upon "Three Wooden Crosses" by Randy Travis. For a fraction of a second, I wanted to call her name and tell her that Randy Travis was playing. Those moments are the hardest.

I don't know if I'll ever get used to those first few seconds in the mornings. Usually it's after I've had a particulary vivid dream about her--I'll wake up and for a few wonderful seconds, I'll expect to hear her moving around in the house. The realization that inevitably comes is sometimes enough to make me cry.

  I guess I've been most surprised by the things I miss. I expected to miss her; she was my best friend. She was the person that I spent the most time with and the person that could make me laugh more than anyone. We had a relationship that many mothers and daughters would envy and she was the one person that I knew would move heaven and earth for me no matter what.

  Mama enjoyed taking care of people. She did everything around the house and even though I don't enjoy having to do the household chores she always took care of, that isn't even close to what I miss most about her. I miss our talks. We could talk for hours about anything. If I was complaining or ranting about something (shocking I know), she'd just sit and listen. When I finished (or paused a moment to breathe), she'd smile, look over at me and say, "Did the grumpy bug bite you?" No matter how mad or irritated I was I had to smile...I just couldn't help it. I smiled a lot when I was with her.

  I miss watching tv and movies with her. She loved funny shows and she'd laugh until she cried, but watching a sad movie with her was entertaining as well. Just as I reached the point of sobbing uncontrollably, she'd usually start shaking with laughter. She said it was nervous energy, but it's not easy to explain in a crowded movie theater.

There are times even now that I have the urge to pick up the phone and call her number. I'd give anything just to talk to her. She was such a huge part of my life that I have yet to discover all the vacant spots her absence has left. There are so many things about her that made her special and I hope she knew how blessed I felt to have her as a mother. She made up songs for me, songs that I'm so grateful to still remember. One was about a dog named Puff, not Spot, that thought he was a kitty cat. Though it sounds like a silly memory, I can hear her sing that song in my head and sometimes at night that's what gets me to sleep.

  The truth is the memories I have of her are the only things that get me through. Even though she's not here physically, I have to believe she can see things. I have to believe she knows that I am ok. I believe that she knows I'm getting the degree she always wanted me to get and I hope with everything in me that she sees that I have made it without her...just like I promised her I would.

  I wish I could hug her and tell her how much I love her, but those days are over for me. I have to remember all the times I did...and even though it still never seems like enough, I know that she knew how much I loved her. If you still have your mother in your life, never miss a moment to tell her how much you love her. Never miss a moment to hug her. Never miss a moment to tell her how much she is appreciated. When it is all said and done, those are the moments and the memories that you'll treasure.