My Mom, Lydia M. Garza

Fifth time posting… with a twist.

Today’s post is similar to the one I posted last year at this time. But I still feel the same exact way.

I miss you mom and I love you so much!

Lydia M. Garza (1940 – 2010)

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January 10, 2015, it’s been five years since my mom, Lydia M. Garza died. It’s hard to believe that it has already been three years. Sometimes it feel longer and other times it feels like it just happened.

My life changed on January 10, 2010. I never knew that you could miss a person so much. This was the person who could make me happy, make me sad and make me mad. Oh, how she could press the buttons to set me off. What do they say, she knew what buttons to push because she put them there?

There are days when I can get through it without getting too sad when I think of you. But then there are other days when all I want to do is hide under my blankets. But on those days when I have happy memories of you, it makes me smile. Like when I made your Green Jell-O for the holidays. Or when I was going through all the treads you had for your sewing… did you really need all those different colors of white thread??

*The twist… This was the first time that Joe was not with us when we went to visit our mom. Joe died August 28, 2014.

Today, my dad and me went to visit my mom at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery. Here is a picture of her grave site when we went there for her birthday on November 17, 2011. Once again we will get yellow roses for her like we did for her on January 10, 2010.

Until we meet again mom, I miss you and I you more that I can say!

IF ROSES GROW IN HEAVEN

If roses grow in Heaven Lord
Please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my Mother’s arms
and tell her they’re from me.
Tell her I love her and miss her,
and when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
and hold her for a while.
Because remembering her is easy,
I do it everyday,
But there is an ache within my heart
That will never go away.

Side note:
I can only imagine my mom and brother laughing at the sight of my dad and me in the truck during our 100 mile round trip around San Antonio.

He 73, half-deaf, half selective hearing and pushing me to the point of having a stroke.

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