Dear Mom

Sitting on the table next to your chair the night you passed away was a list ... for as far back as I can remember, you were a list maker. You often said that lists helped to keep life in order. Right now, Mom, my life is kind of out of whack, so I thought maybe I should make a couple of lists ... a couple of lists for you, Mom.

Things I didn't understand about you, Mom:

I didn't understand how you loved me before you even knew me. I didn't understand why you wouldn't eat until you made sure I was fed. I didn't understand the nights you laid in your bed wide awake until I came home. I didn't understand the way you would patiently read to me for hours and hours and hours. I didn't understand why you wanted me to always wear clean underwear in case I was in an accident. I didn't understand what it meant to you when I graduated from college with honors. I didn't understand how important your advice to me about choosing my friends wisely really was. I didn't understand all the times you managed to clean me up when I was sick without getting sick yourself. I didn't understand how it wounded your soul when I hurled hurtful words at you. I didn't understand why you wanted me to look both ways before I crossed the street. I didn't understand your tears on my wedding day. I didn't understand your insistence that the toilet paper should roll from the top. I didn't understand how lonely you were after Daddy was gone. I didn't understand why you told me to wash my hands a lot. I didn't understand the sadness that permeated your heart when I moved far away from you. I didn't understand how much you missed spending time with your grandchildren. I didn't understand that you always wanted the best and most incredible life for me, no matter where that life took me. I didn't understand your unconditional, unfailing, unending love for me.

Things I understand about you now, Mom ... because I'm a mom, too:

Every single thing in the first list ... every single thing.