I will never know what it’s like to see my mom’s car pull up to my house.
I will never know what it’s like to group text with my mom and my sister.
My mom will never buy me another Christmas present or birthday card.
She will never call me on my birthday to sing “Happy Birthday” to me again.
We will never get to go shopping, or to lunch, or to see a movie again.
We will never get to take a trip together.
I will never get to go to my mom’s house for dinner again.
I will never get to have my mom over to my house for dinner again.
My mom will never stop by my house because she was in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi.
She will never bring me chicken noodle soup when I’m sick or call to see how I’m feeling.
I will never know what it’s like to have a mom when I’m in my 40s or 50s or 60s.
I will never know what it’s like to watch her grow old.
But . . .
I will always know the true and unconditional love of caring for a sick parent.
I will always know the bond I have with my mom.
My mom will always show me how much she loves me, even in the simplest ways.
She will always be in my heart, especially on birthdays and holidays.
We have so many memories of spending time together.
We have tons of pictures and videos, too.
I will always cherish every moment I’ve spent with her.
I will always remember how lucky I am to have her as my mom.
There are many things I will never have, or know, or get to do and yet, I am grateful.
Grateful because I have had, and known, and done so much more than many others.
Grateful because even in this darkness, my mom shines a bright light.
And that light will be with me and in me to guide me through all the days of my life.
It will never leave me.
And neither will she.
Previously published on the author’s blog