Had she lived, my mom
would have been 62 years old today. I'm still stunned when people mention their mothers and I realize that their mothers are still alive. I still feel envious when someone tells me a story about their parent(s) helping them out of a tough situation.
I really miss my mom. When I write a book, I feel very sad that I can't give it to her to read and hear what she thiks of it.
When I perform in front of a big audience and do something that a lot of people enjoy, it makes me really sad that my relationship with my mother was cut short back at the point where I was terrified of stages and microphones and cameras. I go on the radio and she's not at home listening.
I need help and I can't just run to her and have her fix it, or say something that wouldn't occur to me so that I can fix it myself.
My mother didn't get to go to Rosemary's 60th Birthday
or even have a 60th birthday of her own.
My mother wanted to live long enough to see me have children.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
(not every journal entry is happy and optimistic)