This week my mother turns the same age as her mother was when she passed away.
I have been cognizant of that number for many years and never gave it more than a passing thought. This year, it is different and it hit me like a ton of bricks last week. I was speaking with some people and a woman I know is that age. When I jokingly said she could be my own mother the thought of mortality invaded my mind. Nearly breaking down, I left the room calmly as I could manage without bursting into tears. I made it to a hallway close by and tried not to hyperventilate. Ever since that episode, I am afraid of running out of time; never saying the right things; not making up for any past unkindness. For never saying “I’m sorry” when I should have or “I love you” enough.
I spoke to her today on the phone. She is far away on a long planned, well deserved holiday. I miss her and want to hug and tell her these things.
It was just over nineteen years ago that we lost ________.
That is also the difference in age between me and my mom.