The whole world would be a better place with cheerleaders like my Mom

It's been six months since I last heard her voice. Unfortunately, at that time, it was her calling out for me to do something about her pain. I wish her last words could had been "I love you."

My own words will never express how much I miss my mother. I recently told a friend that regardless of the fact that I'm nearly 60 and Mom was 94, I never imagined my life without her in it. That thought honestly never occurred to me. Even when she was so sick three years ago, it didn't enter my mind that one day I'd be lost without her.

It's been six-months since I returned to my bedroom to change my clothes, because Mom had looked me up and down and then greeted me with, "You're wearing that?" Now-a-days, I do it to myself and think twice before I get dressed.

It's been six-months since I gave her a shower, shampooed her beautiful, shiny silver hair (thank goodness I have those genes) and then carefully blow-dried it out into her signature bob. We both used to joke about how that could be my 'Plan B;' if I was ever unemployed and needed work, I could be a hairdresser, but only for women with bobs. We'd laugh about that, because every time I did her hair, she'd be so proud. No one could get her hair as puffy as I could. Everyone should have a cheerleader like my mom. The whole world would be a better place.

It's been six-months since we ran over each other in the kitchen. In fact, I used to get upset, because that darn walker would be in the way and I'd trip over it at least two or three times a week (you can tell just by looking at my mangled toes). I'd give anything to trip over it, again. The pain from my broken toes is nothing compared to this.
Mother's place was in the kitchen (or behind an ironing board - yes, she loved to iron). She'd have dinner waiting for my husband and me every evening; until about two years ago when she began to tire more easily. Then she started fixing dinner only once in a while. Still, when I'd have parties, Mom would be in there helping me with new recipes and cheering me on when I'd decide at the last minute to add something else to the menu. That's when she'd say, "You're going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers," doubting that I could get it all done. Little did she know that I actually took that strange quote to be words of encouragement.

It's been six-months since we last drooled over the recipes created on "Cupcake Wars" and marveled at the celebrity and professional dancers on "Dancing with the Stars." We'd play the part of the judges for both of those - our two favorite shows that I always made time to watch with her. In fact, on the night before she passed away, it is Dancing with the Stars that we were watching when my mother fell asleep pain free for the last time. Little did I know that the next time she'd awaken, it would be to cry out in pain and that would be the last time I'd see her with her eyes open.
I'm so proud, though, that Mom got to see me dance in a similar show held locally for charity. I danced the Tango, and Mom was my biggest fan. Every time I'd overhear her on the telephone with someone, she'd be telling them about me dancing. That was fun. And when I took her to the same event a year later (only two weeks before she passed away), she insisted that no one danced the Tango as well as my partner and I had danced the year prior. Everyone should have a cheerleader like my mother. The whole world would be a better place.

It's been six-months since we had 'family-day' at Sam's Club. I know how odd that sounds, but my husband and I included Mother in everything we did, and that included our Sunday shopping at Sam's.
My husband would often go in one direction with the grocery cart, and Mother, in her wheelchair, and I would go in the opposite direction - me loading things onto her lap.  On one such visit, I had put so many things in her lap, that you could barely see the top of her head over the pile. And yet, we managed to make additional room for a frozen pizza and a bottle of wine. It was the absolute funniest sight, and so many people waiting in line laughed. Mother was tickled and laughed about it all the way home.

It's been six-months since we spent Saturday together doing whatever we wanted to do: going to the Farmers' Market, visiting the cemetery, shopping, getting manicures and pedicures, going to fashion shows and teas, going to the movies, whatever it was -- we did it together.

It's been six-months since she showed me her beautiful knitting or cross-stitch projects -- literally six-months. The evening before she passed away, Mother went through her knitting bag, showing me the cross-stitch ornaments she had completed for 2012 and some other things she had made. I hope that one day I'm able to talk about that night with my younger sister. I need to tell her and she needs to hear it, but she isn't ready and I'm patient. It was a joyous few hours, though.
Mother could knit. She made me some sweaters that I'll keep forever, even though they no longer fit. She won a blue ribbon at our local fair for a sweater she made me, and then won one the following year for an afghan. Mom did it all. She sewed, teaching me when I was in fifth-grade, and later teaching my younger sister.

It's been six-months since Mom kept me company while I worked in the yard. I was never alone; Mom always sat with me, keeping me company, and often saying how she wished she could help.
When we were growing up in Miami, my dad worked long hours, so there were times when Mom also did the yard work. (Again, full disclosure -- While working in the yard, mowing, pulling weeds, etc., she'd wear these horrible tube tops that she made out of old dish towels and elastic - nothing went to waste. I was so embarrassed when my friends would come by and she'd be out there sweating in those tops. Oh to be embarrassed like that, again.)

It's been six-months since we all went camping together. Yes, my 91 to 94-year old mother went camping with us and loved it. She was so happy that when we bought our little trailer, we bought one with her in mind. I have the best husband in the world. Not many would do what he did for more than 10-years.

It's been six-months since we sat out on the back patio, looking up at the clouds and told each other what we saw in those clouds. Only two days before Mom passed away, she saw frogs leaping over each other and I saw an alligator.

It's been six-months since I kissed her "Good-night" and told her that I loved her, tucked her in for a cozy night's sleep, and then listened for her every movement through the baby monitor that I kept right by my head at night. (Full disclosure - the sounds of her moving around with her walker still awaken me at night.)

It's been six-months since I heard her voice, felt her touch, saw her smile and tasted her meatloaf.

It's been six-months since I accomplished anything - period.
Mother was the purpose to what used to be a very driven life. When you are given the kind of encouragement my mother gave me, why wouldn't you be driven? I just didn't realize it at the time. I didn't always take her words as encouragement, but rather I'd sometimes get frustrated by those words - thinking she was finding fault. That was never the case. I see it now.

Every person should have a cheerleader like my mother was to me. The whole world would be a better place. My bet is that many of you do, and you just don't realize it.
I pray I am that to my son and his wife.
Sure, time has softened the pain - somewhat - but I surely doubt that there will ever be a day, even an hour that I don't think about my mother.