My brain is like swiss cheese - full of big holes information slips through (and away).

I sat down here to write a sad but inspiring blog post about my mother. It's just past midnight, so it's no longer officially the anniversary of her death. But it's bearing down on me. It's left me agitated and grumpy all day. Then, when I was in the middle of putting the wet laundry into the dryer, I remembered something about my mother. Something that led into a sad but inspiring blog post.

Only, before I actually started crafting the post, I forgot what that thing was. That thing I remembered, that was hard but sweet, too. Some elusive memory of her that felt good to talk about and, with more sweet and less bitter.

But then I forgot it.

So instead I'm writing a post that's more bitter and less sweet. And the only reason I'm not crying overtly is because I'm holding on to the anger that keeps me sane. The anger keeps the tears pooled along my eyelashes, elegantly poised to fall at any moment. The anger kept me going for so long. It's hard to let it go.

So. Thirteen years ago, Mom died. She never met my husband or my kids. She never walked through my house, or saw me become something better than I was then. And in the end, it's not about what she missed but what I missed from her - support, love, kindness, familiarity, that life long relationship. Because she's gone, and I'm not.

Which, at a seriously bottom line point, is the reason I've gotten this far without her.