I carry it with me everyday. Like a weight or a scar that will never go away. I hide it better, my smiles look more genuine, others move on and forget, and who I am now, how I have changed is invisible to everyone. I have always felt that way, invisible. I didn't feel that way with her, I felt like she understood me, and I could be myself to her. I never felt like she found me dull or plain. I don't think other people really see who I am, and I don't know if that is because I just don't show them, or because my own self-perception is distorted.

Now just because I live with some pain, with some yearning to see or talk to my mother again, does not mean I am unhappy. I am certainly more happy now then I was last year, more healthy, more put together. I take joy from my daughter and all of the wonderful ways in which she is growing. Chad and I are hiking, reading together, loving each other. I am proud of my brothers and all they are accomplishing.

But I miss her every day. And despite rationally knowing I am not the only one, I do sometimes think I am. It is quite lonely without my best friend.

I miss you Mom.