I realize it's 9/11 and the majority of the country is busy with memorial services and all, but all this day does for me is make me miss my mother.
I had just moved here, living with Mom, and I was in the shower when she burst in, threw a towel at me and said "Get out here".
We spent the day together glued to the television, crying and worrying about where they would hit next. I like to remember this story because it's a story of her being well, aware and alive, so different from the last year of her life when she was partially paralyzed and losing the ability to speak.
So today, my personal memorial service will be things I remember about my mom.
She loved animals. I mean LOVED. She fed every stray cat in the neighborhood for years.
She had waist length, beautiful hair.
She collected earrings. When she died, she had over 300 pair.
When we were small, she was a terrible mother.
When I was an adult, she made up for it.
She was afraid of the dark.
She called me "her little girl", even when I was 6 inches taller than her.
She had terrible road rage.
She risked many things to help save me, including her marriage and her job.
She loved her computer games. Even though she could barely work the damn thing. I had to go over at least once a week to fix some crazy thing she did.
She had quite a taste for beer the last month of her life, after never liking it.
She was a terrible cook.
She made excellent fudge.
She loved Agatha Christie.
She always held me when I cried, no matter how old I was.
She loved me fiercely, the best way she knew how.