I Miss My Mom Today. Everyday.

Today is Mother’s Day. I miss my mom. Today. Everyday.

I close my eyes. I can see her, feel her next to me. I can see her smile, remember her hands holding mine.

It is unimaginable that is has been 12 years since she left us. Far too soon. So unfair. Cancer sucks.

My boys were 7 and 9 when she passed. They are now 19 and 21. They were little boys and now they are men. I imagine each of them talking to my mom now. Sam talking to her about so many different things, as he has this voracious curiosity about people and all kinds of subjects. My mother had so many stories and experiences and they would have talked for hours. And I imagine Josh just ribbing her, like he does to me, and making her laugh and laugh.


From time to time I think back to different events in my life. I could have sworn she was there and then I realize she wasn’t because she was gone. My memories are faulty. She should have been there. Life has moved on at a fast pace and I lose track.

The pain of loss never goes away. Denial, depression, anger and acceptance are the traditional 4 stages of grief. Years ago I read an article that spoke about adding a 5th to the list, yearning.

Yes, I do find myself yearning for her touch, to hear her voice. I want to pick up the phone and just chat. I find myself after all these years continuing to experience each of these signs of grief from time to time. The intensity, the rawness has mellowed over time but it never goes away. It happens when I least expect it, a song comes on the radio, I’m eating Chinese food or just stopped at a traffic light. It can hit you at any time.

The bond that ties us to our mothers is real. It’s strong. It’s complicated.

Mine was no different. Our relationship was a roller coaster ride. It had it’s ups and downs and didn’t always feel good. We fought. We cried. We laughed. We forgave. We talked. And we always shopped.

We both had our battle scars. I understand now how difficult it is to be a parent. I have tried to remember what it felt like when I was growing up as I parented my children. We all have our stories. Through it all, our love endures.



My mother challenged me to be the best version of myself. Sometimes I didn’t see it that way or understand. Looking back I am incredibly thankful for her influence and for her role in who I have become. I have tried to accomplish the same goal with my children.

Today I would tell my mother how much I miss her. I would tell her that her influence made me into the person I am today.

My mother taught me anything is possible. She taught me how to write and become a good student in school and in life. She taught me the value of volunteering and giving back to my community. She inspired me to become a good cook and entertain. She taught me the value of family. She taught me how to be a good, caring, empathetic person and a devoted friend. The list goes on and on.



She was vibrant, beautiful and lived life until her last breath.


Often we take our close relationships for granted. We don’t always realize what we have until it is gone. I did get a chance to reflect on what we had and let her know how I felt. Even as the years pass, I still wish I could tell her more.

My mother may be physically gone but I see her in my children and myself. She lives on through all of us.

About Shari

I am a two-time cancer survivor and patient advocate. Diagnosed as a young adult, at age 25 with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I had to quickly face the reality of life’s curveballs. My treatment offered a potential cure while at the same time, underestimated the long term side effects including a secondary cancer (breast cancer) nine years later. Shortly after my breast cancer treatment ended, my youthful, seemingly healthy mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer and passed a year later. I have lived the cancer experience as a patient and a family member/ caregiver and understand both sides. Life after treatment is often challenging emotionally and physically and there is a gap in providing needed support. I don’t consider cancer a gift as it is not something I would ever want to give to someone. Rather, I view cancer as an opportunity; one I received at an early point in my life to live intentionally, understanding how things can change at any moment. I live without regrets, fully understanding the gift and fragility of life.
This entry was posted in Resilience and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to I Miss My Mom Today. Everyday.

  1. Susan Weinstein says:

    Thank you, Shari. This is beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Maggie Jackson says:

    I lost my mother 12 years ago, also. You wrote about so many of the thoughts and emotions I have daily. I miss her today and everyday, and so wish she could have lived to see my boys grow up.


  3. Jennifer says:

    Shari just beautiful. Loved seeing the pictures of your mom. Can still hear her voice anx remember all the fun times at Cloverreach. What an wonderful tribute!


  4. Winnie Thorn says:

    Beautiful, Shari. Miss her lots and think about her often. Our phone conversations–all our conversations for that matter–were always the best! She was a special lady! Winnie


  5. Robyn says:

    Shari, This is beautiful. I never knew how much you and your mother resemble each other. I can’t even begin to fathom how horrible it will be when it is my mother’s time, and while I don’t take her for granted, this post is a wonderful reminder of how short our time together is and to make the most of every moment. Thank you.


  6. Shari says:

    Thanks Robyn. I appreciate your nice words. I know how close you and your mom are too. Hope she stays well.


  7. Pam says:

    Shari, You’re such an inspiration and a beautiful soul…


  8. hudsonww says:

    Dear Shari:

    Surrounded by family yesterday and still a funny kind of day and then I saw your post . . . thinking of my mother and yours. You said it perfectly.

    Now waiting to board first flight home. Wonderful time over for now.

    xx, oo, Janet


    Liked by 1 person

  9. Sara says:

    Shari – the best compliment ever: I wish I had written these words. This was my first mother’s day without my mom since losing her at 68 to cancer in October. I kept reaching for the phone, that knee-jerk reaction to “ah! Mother’s day! I have to call my mom!” And when that “what do I do with my hands?” mind/cycle ended I’d say….ok. I will check in on dad in a bit. I stayed off Facebook. I replied to most of the notes that came in from family and friends. Mostly I was still. I was silent. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Even as a mom myself. This year, it wasn’t my holiday to celebrate. Thank you for these words….you inspire me!! xo


    • Shari says:

      Sara. Thanks so much for your words. I feel for you – the first few years are especially rough. I didn’t write this but I remember feeling like she was away somewhere (like on vacation) and she would come back. I would think “oh, I have to tell my mom this when she gets back” and then I would remember. Strange. Anyway, thinking of you and hope your move went well. Keep in touch.


  10. Pingback: Mother’s Day Memories | Life According to Somebody

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s