As a teen I admired my moms opal ring. Half joking half serious I’d say to her “When you die can I have your ring?” I never thought as a youth about my mom dying but later as an adult when the seriousness of alcohol started rearing it’s ugly face my mind would imagine scenarios that would reply in my head. I can look back in time and see a scene set at the kitchen table where it was lunch and set before me was soup and a sandwich or I can see her putting cinnamon/sugar coated pie crust discards into the oven. So many memories , some happy ,some sad, some that I regret . My mom was 17 years older than me and beautiful.As a teen I would wear her clothes to school. I especially loved a pair of cowboy boots she wore and one day after school I came home to find that she bought me a pair. For Christmas when I was 16 she had bought me a beautiful red and black plaid skirt and an ivory blouse , very beautiful. My mom was an excellent cook and had great fashion sense. I remember when my son who was working up north and staying with her called me because she wasn’t answering the door or the phone to let him in. The first thought was to call the hospital which was where she was. I can’t exactly remember how long she was in there for but I do remember that she was withdrawing from the alcohol and it was terrible for her. I wanted to run up there right away but circumstance was blocking that so I made it a point to go up when she was discharged. It was a shock to see her, she had always been petite but she was now so frail. A few years before when the oldest son was in grade 12 he was a volunteer firefighter and was also in the crash up derby in town. My mom came down to see him and then there was grad. She would come for short visits and stay 2 nights . Always nagging me fold my laundry after it came out of the wash ,something I still don’t do, so that it would out of the way. She was so healthy and energetic . I live two miles from town and we’d walk there and back pulling the little ones in a wagon. She really enjoyed wiener roasts and being outside. The first year we moved out to the country me and her turned over the dirt for a garden and she showed me how to plant carrots properly. There was always something that I could count on and that was her daily phone call , every day . Some days just to gossip about nothing really , sometimes just to see what I was making for dinner but it was a constant something I could count on. When I was sad or upset a call to her would bring me out. When I realized she hadn’t called in a couple days I would call her . Sometimes there was no answer other times the talk would be short. I should have caught on something was wrong when days would go by and I hadn’t heard from her. I just attributed to “oh she must be at her friend’s place. So it was a shock to see how wrong I was. There were times when she would ask me to help her get into a program but then she would back out when it would happen. She even went through a period when she had me look into a place to live close to me , she was too independent to come stay with me, but like before with the treatment centers she would back out at the last minute. When she was out of the hospital I took my boys and we went to stay there for about a week. Not long after that came the phone call that nobody wants to receive , it came from my sister who informed me that the doctor had not given her much time. My boys and I went back up and as much as that time was terrible there were three special moments. The first was when she asked me to come close and hug her at which point she started to scratch my back. When I was a little girl I loved my back scratched in fact I still do to this day. The second was when I rubbed lotion on her feet. She loved having her feet played with and I hate touching feet , but there was me and her and I did it and I loved that moment because I knew she did too. The third time was when it was my oldest son , my brother and me . She asked him to read out of the Bible , it was special because I remembered her phoning me and asking why this grandson of hers could preach to her and pray and not be a preacher. In other words she came a long way from not wanting to hear about God to asking to hear the Bible read to her. The day I left to go home (I was watching 3 girls at the time and had to get back to them) was the night my mom passed. I will always miss her and every now and then I want to pick up the phone and call her. Know what I mean jellybean?