My mother passed away last night.
I am so, so lucky to have had her this long - she was a brittle diabetic, besieged by other health problems. At one point she was told she wouldn't live to see her mid twenties, and so she regarded every day as a gift. To live forty years past her expected life span was a miracle.
My mother was a good-hearted woman with a wicked sense of humour. She could always make me laugh (even through disagreements!) and I'll miss her wit.
She called yesterday to say Happy Valentines Day and to tell me about the flowers my step-father had given her. She was upbeat and cheerful, talking to Rosey about the Olympics, asking me if I'd seen the opening ceremonies and wowed over the pageant that Vancouver had put on.
I meant to talk to her again, but she and R hung up, Rosey all smiles and talking excitedly about what Nana had said. Never mind, I thought. I'll call her back later.
Only now, there is no later.
I'm torn between an eerie sense of calm and trying to not let my mind remember all the wonderful things about her. I'm really okay as long as I don't recall what a neat mom she was growing up, all the Halloween costumes and stories and songs and special things she and I had.
She's at peace now. I just have to hold on to that.
But it feels awfully flimsy when I contemplate never hearing her laugh again.