Reflections on the future, the present, and the past

Everyday I notice more and more things around me that make me sad. Most of them deal with my mother. I'll come home from a trip or have important news and immediately start dialing home before I realize that she isn't there to answer the phone. Yes, I know; my dad and little sister are there, but it's not the same. Mom was always there when I needed to talk to her. I could always get through the line and chat, even if it was only a simple question. There are so many times that I wish she was here, and yet know that she is not. I hear of friends going through the temple for the first time or getting married, and I realize that mom won't be there with me when that happens. She is gone. I won't be able to talk to her about life, about my new internship, about my fears of going out into the workforce. She won't be there when I get married, when I go through the temple, when I start having a family of my own. She is not there when I have to vent, or when I need to know how to cook something, or to tell me what I am sick with. She won’t be there to tell me to shape up, to do what I am supposed to do, and to help me when I have problems.

Most of all, though, she is not there to tell me about her life, or of any of her memories. What did she do as a kid? For that matter, what did I do as a kid? Everyday I wish that I had asked her more questions, that I had talked to her more, that I had listened to her. She had so much knowledge and so many stories, all I had to do was sit and listen. But instead I wanted to go out and play, or I was busy with school, or I just wasn't in the mood. Why didn't I listen? and now it is just too late. She's gone, and so are all of the memories and knowledge that she had. Slowly the memories that I have of her are leaving as well. Many years down the road, will I remember what she looked like, how she talked, what she would do, and how she would act? I don't know. I hope I remember everything, but I know that that is not likely. But, at the same time, remembering her makes me so sad, and then I just want to think about her thus causing me to neglect my duties.

All of this also makes me wonder if she misses us. We caused her so much heartache and so many problems. I wish I could go back and take away all the mean and nasty things I had said to her. She didn’t deserve it.

There is so much that I should have done and yet didn’t. There is so much that I did that I shouldn’t have. And there is so much that I wish I could do with her, but can’t. It makes me realize how little of what you do really matters if you can’t share it with others. Would it really matter if you won some award if there was no one there who was happy for you? I don’t think so.

I miss you, mom.