#14-Pizza and Tears (One Year)

Throughout this year, I've had these wonderful moments where I vividly remember the good times I shared with my mother. Those haven't always been easy to come by because the last months of her life (in the hospital) are deeply etched in my mind. And those last months weren't easy, I saw things that I wish I had not.

Yet, I wouldn't of had it any other way. Because I was there, my family was there and she wasn't alone.

When I took Mateo to the bus stop this morning, we were talking about the God and family program he completed through Cub Scouts. We were reviewing some of the things he learned. The curriculum for the program uses the metaphor of pizza to describe a family, with the crust being our foundation in God.

As I was discussing this with Mateo, we started talking about how a bad crust can ruin an entire pizza. I was telling him about this pizza place I enjoyed back in my hometown and one night someone put too much salt in the crust. And no matter how good everything on the pizza was, I just couldn't get over the crust and I threw it out. However, when the crust was just right, everything else on it, was that much better.

I'm not this super Christian that always prays instead of worries or starts speaking in tongues or blessing when some makes me angry, I struggle. Yet, because my parents, my mother, helped me to build my foundation on Christ all those years ago....I am a better person for it.

It is that foundation--of her taking me to church and praying for me everyday--that helped me face this year without her.

I still miss my mom so very much, it's unavoidable, she is intricately weaved into every fiber of my life. And I still wish that she could stayed with us for a while longer.

And no, my mother wasn't perfect, but it was those idiosyncrasies that made her uniquely my mother. Like how she didn't like the food to touch on her plate. Or how she would put a half-drunken can of soda in the fridge, to save for later (which I do all the time). Or how she could strike up a conversation with a complete stranger, anytime and anywhere.

Or how she would call me at like 6am in the morning when I was in college to remind me of something. And typically it wasn't anything of huge significance, but I think my mom just wanted to catch me early in the day (before I rushed away and got busy), just to hear my voice.

I remember her laugh and her smile. I remember her hugs and kisses. I remember our long conversations. I remember our day excursions to yard sales and thrift shops. I remember how she walked with me and held me up after giving birth to Mateo via c-section. I remember her being in my room the day I got ready to marry my husband, fixing my hair and dress.

And I remember how, when I took a class as an adult that required a 2-hour drive to get to, she would ride with me to make sure I was safe....and she waited in the library while I was in class. Now that's love, there are so many other thing she could have done with 6 or 7 hours of her evening, but she chose to spend them with me.

My mother was love. There is no better way I can put it. Everything she did, was out of love for God and her family.

So today, I remember my mother. I embrace everything about her and every moment I had with her...even those hard moments at the end.

And when those tears come, I will think of her laugh and her smile and 6am phone calls.

And as I continue this journey through life without her physically by my side, I know that her love will always be with me.