I had the realization today that you would have been 59 tomorrow. It is inconceivable to me that you would have ever been that old. What would you have been like at 59, 60, 70? Feisty, I'm sure.

Today my sister in law teared up looking at me dancing to a David Bowie song. She said I just looked so much like my mom. This usually bothers me, but today, I was looking like my mom at my niece's 16th birthday party. So, I was happy to bring a Little Leslie to the party.

I watched a documentary called Dear Zachary today, a very sad affair, but this line stuck out to me:
"Grief is love's way of not letting go". While my mother was hardly 28 (like one of the people in Dear Zachary who lost their life), 55 is far too young to go. But I think that even if she had been 80, I still would feel this grief.

When my mom died, I still hadn't entered that comfortable adult relationship that many daughters share with their daughters. I never told her details of my love life (such as it was), my real fears, my plans. I was still afraid of being judged by her; judged to be sinful, silly or wrong. Now I really wish I had just laid it all out there.