There is no storm or blizzard, just a steady, slow, and unceasing snowfall that quietly blankets my heart and my being. That is how it feels without my mother.
I lost my Mother on January 13, 2012. Time compounds on itself, and each day the weight of her absence grows heavier. The emptiness of that quiet white tundra, is vast.
She was my teacher and guide for everything in life, she was the stencil after which I was drawn. From the moment I was born until the moment my mother passed away, all she did was give me love.
My precious Mother and I were a team. She was my constant guide, I was her faithful follower.
In the past few years, late in her life, my mother craved the foods from her youth. She wanted to once again taste her mother’s yellow string bean soup, or Palacsinta, the Hungarian crepes her mother prepared for dessert. She craved any and all of her mother’s cooking.