Six years ago, come December, I lost the very first person who ever loved me. She busted my butt when I really needed it; baked the best peanut butter cookies; made me curl my hair on sponge rollers every. single. night.; fixed 3 square meals every day; kept a clean house for her family; gave me a great little sister to argue with; worked short hours at the school cafeteria so she could still be home when her kids were home; always kissed me good night; was fun loving and great entertainment; married a hard-working man who provided for his family; put up with my sass; was my Girl Scout Leader; gave me untold opportunities to know, love and respect her own awesome parents: and was the best friend I EVER had. I miss her voice. I miss her hugs. I miss her love. I miss her teasing. I miss her smile. But I'm truly humbled by how my own emotional pain is nothing new in the world we shared together. I know Mama missed her own mother. Grandma missed her own mother, and so on. Back, and back. It's how the world turns. From one generation to the next, it's simply the way of it. Someday, I hope to feel better about this reality of mortality. I don't see it being anytime soon but am still hopeful. For now, I continue to miss my beloved Mama. Heaven is her eternal home and I'll join her there, one great morning. ~God Bless