Guest Columnist

When you died, I thought I would never smile again.  I was sure I would never laugh again.  You were not only my Mom, but my best friend.  For years I would head to the phone...sometimes even picking up the receiver... to share something that one of the  kids did, only to realize that I could never again call you.

You were my mentor.  I called you for cooking advice, motherhood problems, good news, bad news and everything in between.  

You came rushing to my house when I called hysterically with the news that my one month old baby had some horrible rash. You smiled when you told me that it was only prickly heat and that I should move the skirted bassinet off of the register.

You wore (and kept) the ugly shark-tooth looking necklace and earrings (more than once) that I was so thrilled to give you.  We discovered that you had kept all the little bottles of "Evening in Paris" cologne that we had given you over the years along with every handmade card and gift.

You never got to do the traveling Dad wanted to do with you. You and I never got the chance to go shopping or have lunch in a nice restaurant, as by the time my little brothers were old enough to go without them, I had toddlers of my own.

  I have 10 grandkids and two great-grandkids.  You only got to see a fraction of your grandchildren, and never got to see your legacy.  You would indeed be very proud.  

  I suppose I should be over missing my Mom.  I am, after all, almost 70 years old.  But I still have things I would like to tell you.  Did you know that Rusty's baby, Becca and her husband Matt just had a little boy... And Tony's son Nick and his wife Jessie just had another little boy...and...