My mother died at 39 when I was 9, a brother 6, and a sister 5. For me, it
wasn't the first Mother's Day, following her death. It was the first
Christmas, as she made that season a magical time without excess commercialism.
It took me 15 years and a wise therapist to fully accept she was gone. Now,
almost 48 years later, the pain has been replaced with fond memories and
gratitude for having memories of a loving mother. By bringing us 4 into the
world (including a twin sister who died at birth), against doctors'
warnings, she cut her life short. Meaningful article, even though I'm a