I would love to sit and talk with my mom for just a little while. I would enjoy hearing her voice again and being near her. I’d love to hear how her life is now and what she’s been doing. I’d also appreciate the wisdom she could impart on what she’s glad she did in life and what she now knows would have made her happier.
She’d no doubt remind me not to sweat the small stuff, to forge my way in whatever direction I damn well please, and to keep learning until the day I die. “Read, read, read,” she’d say, and “write, write, write.” She’d also remind me that I can create whatever life I want for myself and to not allow others or their opinions to distract me from following my heart. She would encourage me to see the people I love as often as I can and, of course, she’d mention that it is my obligation to attend Mass every Sunday.
The truth is I’d be happy if we sat quietly, just being together. That would be lovely.
Mom assured me before she died that she wholeheartedly believed in heaven.
I certainly hope that she’s right because thinking about spending time together again makes me happy.
Until then, I will be grateful that I was lucky enough to have a mother who was also my friend, and understand that her words continue to guide me, now and always.
Thanks, Mom.
20 Minutes a Day 
I still, some thirty years later, have conversations with my mom. Granted, they are pretty one-sided, but I ask everything from how to cook something to who that relative is in an old, faded photo. It comforts me to talk to her. Sometimes I try to tell her about her great-grands, none of whom she ever knew. She would love them so much.
Judy, I love hearing that. I might direct address myself! Hugs to you and to our moms.