As I studied the city coming into view, I thought about love as an emotion. How it was like a pyrotechnics display. The vibrancy and beauty were not truly appreciated until after the fireworks erupted, when the sparks burst in radiant color and seem to gloriously proclaim to the sky, "This is what you're missing. This is what you've lost."
That was how it was with my mother. I had adored her, loved the way she sang while she cooked, how her eyebrows came together when she read something interesting, and the way she snuggled into my neck when she tucked me in at night.
Those memories were priceless, and I wished I cherished her more while I had her in my life. I should've cuddled with her longer. Hugged her tighter. But then, I didn't know she was going to die.
The knowledge that she was
