Three years have passed.

I should have mastered this by now—I should’ve adjusted to our new way of being; able to converse with you in the Spirit world as easily as I talk to God. Without intending blasphemy, God was always Spirit…you were always a presence. And from your vessel, I came to be. It’s challenging to have the same experience with you and God; I’m accustomed to your hands, your hair, the sound of your voice, your laughter and the way you prepared our meals.

You never grew tired of any issue, big or small, that I brought to you. You were the only person I could talk to freely and unfiltered. I never worried if you’d judge me or stop loving me because of anything I did or said. 

The world is simply not that forgiving. 

While I am blessed to have those who care and love me, I still crave your love exclusively. I am unabashedly spoiled and selfish—I want my mom. Even as I join others in grief, every experience is unique; no one can fully comprehend how I feel about being without my mom. 

I know my mom has ascended. I know she sits close by as I write this. Yet, that’s not enough sometimes. I want things to be the way they were. I would will her to still be here if I could. 

When does a daughter stop needing her mommy? Never.

A daughter eventually learns the finality of her mother’s last push on what is now a new life’s birthday. Things will never be the same. The mother is the first to lift her baby up before it learns to stand independently. She walks a few steps behind as her baby explores her new world. Over time, mother and daughter walk side by side and speak face to face. Soon the child becomes an adult and eagerly looks to leave the nest. Ready or not, the mother must let go and accept their new way of loving and living.

And then there comes a time when a daughter must learn how to do the impossible-letting go of someone you cherish and love so deeply.  It is now her turn to let go of her mom. 

It is in that very moment, does she understand her mother’s tears and love.