My mother died on Decem­ber 23rd 14 years ago. She was buried the day after christ­mas. At her funeral I had a tape of her favorite christ­mas song played. It was “Silent Night”. The record­ing I picked was a haunt­ing instru­men­tal. All these years since her death, at Christ­mas, I have heard that record­ing as I still have the tape, and still play it at Christ­mas. All these years hear­ing the song would make me pause and be sad. Today I was walk­ing thru my home and although I knew I had that tape play­ing I was shocked at the gut wrench­ing sad­ness that hit me when the song came on unex­pect­edly. 14 years and I still miss her. If you read my moth­ers day post you know we didn’t have a nor­mal mother daugh­ter rela­tion­ship. But we had some­thing, and it is that which I miss. Today the loss made me sit down sud­denly on my steps and weep for what could have been. Still, 14 years later. I looked at my home and thought how ironic that after she died I moved a half an hour from where she lived. I thought about how she would have loved this place. How she could have been here each time my kids vis­ited. How she could have seen her first great, great grandaugh­ter. I thought about the walks she could have taken and the talks we might have had. Maybe then there would be some clo­sure. But then, maybe not. I think what I was wish­ing for the most this morn­ing was the time back we never had. You always hear, say it now, do it now, as you never get it back, but it doesn’t mean a thing until it is star­ing you in the face. The 23rd is etched for­ever in the mem­ory of my heart as the day she died. But today my heart hurts in the miss­ing of her. Today I want my mom. How­ever I could have her. For just a moment more. Maybe then I could finally say goodbye.