Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Twenty three years ago on this day, December 1st 1986, my mother died. She was 44 years old and I was 17. It makes me sad that I have already lived much longer without her than with her. I so wish she could have met my husband and my children...
This is my favourite photo of her, me and my grandmother (her mother). It was made on my third birthday. My father left us before I was born and I was raised by these two women. My mother had a progressive disease and when my grandmother died (when I was 15) she moved to a nursing home. I lived with two foster families until I finished high school and started university in another city. Those years were not the best of my life, but I have fond memories of the first 15 years. As you can see they loved me very much.