8th anniversary in heaven

This is for my Mom. After eight years, I still miss her. For some reason this year is harder, and I'm not sure why. I still get the urge to pick up the phone and call her over this or that minor thing, just to chat. We grew close in the two years following her diagnosis of lung cancer, and I remember so vividly the day we sat in the kitchen, just talking about the family. She said she was happy we all were doing well - my two older brothers and I - and I expanded on that by saying how we had all achieved success in life - personally, in business, in our relationships - and that it was no accident. She looked puzzled. "Mom, it's because of you we turned out the way we did. It was your influence. Daddy had only a little to do with it." Judging by the look on her face, that thought had never occurred to her. It made her happy, it seemed to fill her up. She never considered or understood the impact she had on our lives. She only thought of herself as ancillary to her husband, as though her input never mattered. She seemed to see herself as only a shadow, not anything of substance. It broke my heart.

Oh but was she was a force to be reckoned with! And she was my MOM. And thanks to her, I am who I am today, and I am so happy that I made her proud. And I was so very proud of her, that 4'9" fireball of a woman, who should have lived longer but for the neglect and ineptitude of her doctors. A breast cancer survivor of more than 25 years, she was taken by lung cancer - she never smoked, not ever - which should have been found years before it took her life.
I rage at the doctor responsible for her death, at the system which looks at elderly women and gives them short shrift, at the incredibly senseless stupidity of it all. She was my mother, she was a person, she was a vital force who touched so many lives and made them better. The loss of her life made the world a lesser place.

I miss you, Mommy. I know you're in a place where time takes no toll, and you're not alone. The angels welcomed you, and waiting for you were your parents, and brother, and all of our beloved dogs, and all the cats and dogs you nursed to health in our backyard - in Connie's "Animal Hospital" -- every living creature sensed your love and kindness and healing nature. I only wished you could have healed yourself. Dad couldn't live without you, and you welcomed him home less than two years later.

Thank you for being who you were - Concetta Pecchio, the most beautiful woman of her day, and the most loving and wonderful mom there could be.