It feels unfathomable that it will be13 years on Sunday since my beloved mother Betty passed away. The same number of years it took to come of age and be Bat Mitzvah ( or Hebrew Recognition as my very Reform temple called it in 1968 ). My entire trajectory of John Street grade school has just passed by, which in a child’s mind seemed an eternity.
Those first 13 years of my life were filled with such milestones.
So much life packed was into 13 years. Along with learning to walk and talk, I learned to ride a bike, write a story, paint a picture and bake a cake albeit with some help from another Betty, Betty Crocker.
Yet now those 13 years feel like a blink of an eye and it seems unimaginable that she has been gone nearly the entire length of my childhood years.
I thought life would come to a standstill when she left.
This seemingly gentle woman was my life force and most powerful champion. Her loyalty, heart, and empathy knew no bounds. Among her lasting gifts of generosity was her unwavering love and belief in me which didn’t die with her but provided me with a foundation to flourish these past many years. Which by some miracle I have. And that belief has nourished and sustained me even in my darkness.
Though I still ache to see her face light up in a smile or pick up the phone to share news good and bad with her, I know my mother is with me and her signs of love are all around me. They are in fact palpable.
I know for certain, she would be overjoyed and filled with wonder and gratitude at this powerful community of caring and support I have found right here on my blog and thankful to know there are others who are enjoying the very things she so deeply encouraged in me. And still does.