She was . . . so kind, so lovely, so brave, so caring. She kept a home worth coming home to. She tried to understand me when it was hard to handle a hormonal teenager morphing into a rebellious young woman. She allowed me to be young for as long as I wanted. She hurt most when I hurt. She wanted to protect me but she gave me great independence because she thought I could handle it. She was a rock and I knew she loved me deeply. She saw me through brown eyes that were losing their vision from Multiple Sclerosis but not their immense love. She died young. At 62. Cancer.
Jesus took her home and it broke our hearts but not our faith. I love you so much, Mom.
Happy Birthday to you! Jesus, please hug her for me. I know she'll love that.
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