Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
There are an awful lot of things I miss about my mom, but one of the biggest is that I never really got the opportunity to learn how to be a mom. My son was not even a year old when she passed away, and in the past twenty one years there have been about a million questions I’ve wanted to ask.
Of course, like all parents, I second-guessed just about every decision I ever made in raising a child, just hoping that loving him and always being guided by wanting what was best for him would be enough. And, of course, like all parents, I never felt that it was.
Long ago, I was foolish enough to think that if I ever made it through childhood, things would get easier—if I could just get him “grown up”, then most of my work would be done. After yet another painful conversation with my grown son today, I realized anew how wrong I was. And I realized again just how much I miss my mom.
