This is the 13th Mother's Day that has come around since your life came to an end. When you passed away, I didn't just lose a mother, I also lost my best friend. We used to spend Mother's Days together but we can't anymore. You went to Heaven twelve years ago when you were sixty-four. You became a mother in 1967 when you brought my brother into the world. I was born almost four years later and you incorrectly believed I'd be a girl. An aneurysm ended your life and we buried you in the ground. I cannot enjoy Mother's Day because you're no longer around. I'll join you in Heaven but I don't know when. But it will be great when we're together again.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013]
