I Did It.

My last post was desperate and truly reflected my anxieties and stress. For a moment there, as irrational as it sounds, I did not think I was going to find the wherewithal to get my daughter to her First Holy Communion. But I did. I don't know how to explain it, but my faith comes through for me when I need it most. When I woke up, I had my tea, some cereal, and I woke up my daughter to get her ready. I didn't even think about it, and I certainly went about things with a kind of amnesia about my desperation the night before.

Oh yes, I had wished that my mother would be there. And I couldn't envision being able to get through the day without her. But the day dawned and we got to the Church and I realized that she WAS there. It sounds trite and cliche, after all we are meant to believe that our loved ones are with us after death. But love, and faith and all that I had learned from my mother surrounded me that day. I felt almost strong - as if she were holding me up.

I will always miss my mother: the way she clarified things for me, the way she made me laugh, the adventures we shared. But she is with me. I know it. She is a part of me and my children and all the love we share. I don't know how I know it, but I do. I think she was proud of us all that day. And I was proud: of being her daughter and of trying to be the mother she taught me to be.