Two years ago my mom sat my brother and I down and told us that her cancer had returned. It had metastasized, it was everywhere, it was terminal. She died three months later.
I still miss her all the time and after her death my dad cleaned out everything of hers. I took many of her things home and stuffed it in a closet and have kept the door closed. Every time I open the door, the tears flow and it is too painful to go through my mothers things. For the past year I have avoided this closet, until today. I'm ready to accept that my moms things are now my things. I am ready to embrace the tears and remember her vibrant spirit. She is gone but her memories still live on.