Remembering mom and thinking about her a lot today. She sure did give me the best of her. Here are some of the ways:

I love a lot of ice in my drinks. Mom loved a lot of ice in her drinks.
Mom was definitely not a morning person. I am definitely not a morning person.
We both found nostalgic humor in every repeat episode of Fraiser, Home Improvement, King Of Queens and Seinfeld, no matter how many times we saw them. We were each open to new things. I got her into Who Wants to be a Millionaire, she got me into Lifetime Movie Marathons about the Kennedy's.
She loved a good sale and so do I. Additionally, mom spoiled me with chocolate, which is one of my basic food groups. She taught me how to be organized. And shared her love of animals. Mom was a creative who hated the the opera, and I do too. She loved Barry Manilow and I own most of his CDs.
She was my most staunch advocate in life. Whether with school administrators, doctors, repair mechanics, therapists, even at times my own family members, Mom always had my best interest at heart. She didn't always know how to express it, after all, parents are people too. But the unconditional love was always there. And it ran fierce and it ran deep. Mom knew how to say what needed to be said in any given moment when called to do so, therefore, she seldom yelled. I know unequivocally my life would be very different today had she not had her Mother Bear instinct in caring for me.

Time passes in odd ways

Today marks the sixth anniversary of her death. It feels like six days… six hours… six minutes… six seconds. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her yet. The living are meant to go on. I do believe that. I continue strong on my life’s journey, just as she would want me to do. But there is no denying the fact that when she died, a part of me died with her. I don't apologize for still being hurt and angry that I don't have her here with me anymore. Some may say, “find peace and take comfort.” But I can’t. And I know Mom would understand.

I keep asking myself, "What would Mom do? How would she handle this?" Ironically, or not, she lost her father at the same age I lost her.

I have such a vivid memory of her spontaneously crying when thinking or speaking of Grandpa Mike some 30 years later, this man who was "daddy" that she cherished so. I couldn't believe she could still cry such fresh raw tears, after all the years that had passed. As I watched her crying over this man I never knew, I didn't understand her grief. I couldn't relate to it.

It breaks my heart to say that now, I can.