Love . . .

My mom gave us my sister's filing cabinet. I have always liked it. We brought it up to the office in hopes of organizing and decluttering.

Everytime I talk to my mom on the phone, my heart breaks. I don't know. I have deep feelings of sadness followed by anger. I don't understand and don't want her to go through anymore pain. I don't think I'm angry at God directly. I'm just angry at the situation.

My mom grew up in Mexico, first in a little rancho outside of Huamantla and then moved to Mexico City with her mama. She often went with her mama to clean houses attending school very little. She left Mexico City at the age of 13 - marrying my dad soon after. My mama had 11 children in all. She has since lost two little ones, my little brother who died as an infant and my little sister who died when she was 2 1/2 years old. She then lost my dad about 15 years ago and now my sister. Why????

We cry together, her and I. We miss her deeply. Everytime I hang up the phone, I cry for my mama and for me . . . and for my sister. I loved her so.

Children, love your parents (we do the best we can), love your brothers and sisters because we never know when they may be called home. I never thought we could lose her - never.

We were going to make it one more time.