Updated: Dec 20, 2019
June 7th, 2019: In these early morning minutes I walked along the sand to get the best perspective. I held my breath and pressed the shutter. I couldn't help but smile at this moment captured. Never to be repeated; recorded forever. As I walked back to the car I see my mom intensely watching the morning meet the San Francisco Bay. When the sun finally peaked over the Sierras my mom cried. Her small voice quivered as she expressed gratitude for this new day. She appreciated the sunrise as if it was the last she would witness with her own eyes, and little did I know . . . it would be.
"The fifteen days that followed this sunrise were about the hardest I've ever endured."
The fifteen days that followed this sunrise were about the hardest I've ever endured. Nothing could ever prepare me to say goodbye to my mom. She and I had a unique relationship as mother/daughter, friend/foe. She was everything a mother could be to a daughter and so much more.
I've only ever known my mother to be a hard worker and provider for her family. She filled in the gaps when my father wasn't there. And although she was brutally honest with her opinions, she managed to show compassion, love, and generosity that I have yet to see in another human being. I've learned my most valuable lessons from observing her and seeking her guidance. Most times her counsel consisted of the same question, "What are you worried about?", followed by her affirmation that everything would be okay. She was always right and I secretly hated it.
It's been over two months since this sunrise. I can't say that it doesn't sting to look at it again, it does. Some days a lot more than others. But for every brand new day, I adjust to life without her and I'm grateful for each moment I shared with my mother over her lifetime. My heart knows that I will never be the same, but why worry? Everything will be okay.