My beautiful momma — such quiet presence in life. With her loss comes a deafening silence.

She lived with me. I took her with me everyplace. My person. My best friend. My constant. She brought color to my world. Our crazy casino trips, meals out, shopping, hair salon visits and our drives on a beautiful evening, just because. Sunday fun day. Cooking good food and screaming at the TV at our Philadelphia Eagles. Oh the joy with that Super Bowl win at last! She kept telling me to calm down. She was afraid I was going to have a heart attack! Lol

Some of these things and some of these places are now so hard to face. Some unbearable. Places I have not been back to but will eventually. I’m determined to watch football again this year and enjoy it! It’s just hard to confront. I hear her in my head. When I’m walking in from work, “Hey Barb! I’m so excited your home.” Or the call at work “Can’t wait for this weekend! I missed you this week.” I’d say that I’d be home by 5 and she’d always say “I like it when you’re home. You’re my girl and don’t you forget it.” She always said that.

All our crazy laughter at whatever may have been going on in the world. Just getting from point A to point B in the car was enough to send us into hysterics. “Mom which way? Left? Right?” Whatever she said, I always took the opposite. We ALWAYS got there! My mom was 92. She was beautiful. Looked not a day over 70. I was so proud to show her off. I took pride in taking care of her. It never was a burden. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It wasn’t easy, she had a lot of health issues.

No matter where we were people would comment on our relationship. We were extraordinarily close. It showed. I wanted to make her happy. She hadn’t had an easy life. She had a hard childhood. Buried a husband and two sons. Not one bitter or hard-edged bone in her. When we would be saying goodbye to each other, I would always lean down to kiss her and say “give me your face!” It was our “thing,” she’d say.

Now good days are hard but bad days are harder. Nobody ever loves you like your mom. I walk in from work, silence. Look at my phone during the day while at work, silent. Driving in the car, oh the quiet … doesn’t matter what I make for dinner now or what I buy at the market. No one to care for and worry about. Seems weird to miss worry but I do. It all seems so black and white, no more color. Oh the silence? It is deafening.