My mother died when she was 53.
Today, I am on the road to 53.
I think this is bothering me.
I have so much more living to do.
Did she feel the same way?
I realize how much she missed.
I was only 14 when she died.
I didn't get it.
Now I know.
She didn't get to see her daughters...the 3 of us...become women.
She didn't see us walk down the aisle
She didn't see us become mothers.
She didn't get to see us be the women we are today.
She didn't get to meet Vince.
She didn't see his nose that hooked when he cried.
The DiPippa nose.
She didn't get to see that he looked so much like her brothers and her nephews.
She didn't get to love the boy whose eyes matched hers.
She didn't get to realize that she would be the grandmother of a boy who we would one day call Dr. Vince....her grandson, the PhD.
She would have been so proud.
She didn't get to meet Toni.
The little girl who I named after her.
The beautiful Italian looking girl with a quick wit and a penchant for parties.
She would have adored having a grandaughter like her...with brown eyes and dark hair and a love for fashion.
I wonder if she dreamed about her.
She didn't get to sew her a communion dress or a prom gown.
There were so many times I dreamed about that.
I wonder if she did too.
My mother would have truly, deeply enjoyed being Toni's grandmother.
I know that from the bottom of my heart.
My mother didn't get to meet her grandchildren....
Vince--the magic eyed boy with the stroke of genius and an every-day likability...
Alexa--the gorgeous, intense girl with the curly hair and the smirky smile
Andy--the compassionate and creative soul....
Toni--the beautiful, creative, witty girl...
Brett--the quirky, loveable intelligent fellow....
Jared--the loving, soulful boy....
Yes, I missed my mother.
Yet, she missed more.
Because she died so young.....when she was 53.
Funny....I just realized how young she was.
Because now I'm 52.
And I am young.