For my mother ...

I always knew my mother loved me, but never fully appreciated or even really understood the incredible depth of that love, until I became a mother myself. It was also when I became a mother, that I realized I wanted to be a better daughter. Unfortunately, I had less than 2 years of shared motherhood with Mom before she passed away from a rare and untreatable form of cancer. This picture was taken a month before she died and it was the last time she held her grandaughter. It still hurts to think that she won't be at the airport to greet us when we return from China with our new daughter, as she was when we returned with Elizabeth.

I'm a nurse because my Mom was a nurse. I remember one holiday eve when my Mom said that before we could sit down and celebrate, we had to bring dinner to one of her patients (she was working as a visiting nurse at the time). We packed up some of our meal, climbed into the car and drove to her patient's house. I remember an older woman using a walker to get around and that she was so pleased that Mom had stopped by. I remember feeling sad that she had no friends or family with her but could understand, even at that young age, that my mother's small gesture had meant the world to her. Mom was a master at the art of nursing, an art that is rarely seen today.

I love you, Mom. And I miss you every day.