I called my mom on Mother’s Day morning, 2002. She thanked me for sending her favorite flowers—red carnations. We chatted excitedly about her upcoming move from Ohio to Wisconsin. In just a few short weeks, she would be within five minutes of our family. We hadn’t been closer than a whole day’s drive for 45 years. Soon, she’d be able to walk with her grandkid, whom she’d seen only a handful of times to the park across the street from her house. She’d push them on swings and scoop them up in her arms at the end of the slide.

A whole new chapter of life was about to begin for my mom and me. We needed that. She worked her tail off raising us three kids and I was up to my neck and beyond trying to raise our three, all adopted from Russia with a myriad of disabilities stemming from fetal exposure to alcohol (FASD). After so many losses in our lives, we were both looking for some close-by comfort and support from each other.

Before saying goodbye, Mom thanked me again for the carnations and added her often repeated philosophy—“Flowers should be for the living, not for the dead.” We laughed, said “I love you!” and hung up.

The next morning, I received a call. Mom was dead.

Read the rest of this cliff-hanger on Jolene Philo’s blog: https://differentdream.com/2021/05/making-every-day-a-great-mothers-day-part-1/