Well, we didn’t get our miracle.

Or, at least, we didn’t get it here, but my Mom is out of that body that was hurting her so much, so she got hers. And now she can run and fly and do all the things she loves without having to pay the price later.

So that’s a wonderful thing to think of.

But I’m a little selfish and I miss her smile and I miss her little songs to the dogs and I miss how much she loved all of us. Like, so much.

It’s hard when somebody’s not there and you realize that the amount of love they put out there was so huge there’s this enormous gap. And I’m just facing that gap for the rest of my life.

It’s rough.

But she’s getting all the wonderful things she ever dreamed of right now, and she has so many friends and family surrounding her right now, so she’s got people to take care of, and she feels well and can take care of everybody again.

So that’s awesome.

But not right now, because it hurts, and I realize that my soft, squishy, constantly breaking heart is the way it is because I learned empathy and mothering from her.

I got to thank her, and I got to apologize for all the crap I pulled, and I got to make sure she felt loved all the way through, and that is also something to be grateful for.

But it still sucks.

She was sunshiny, beautiful, naïve, more generous than most people would think was humanly possible, and she loved us all with food and presents and too much of everything, in a good way. And it’s not likely that life will ever give us a chance to be cared for so thoroughly again, at least, not on this planet.

So, I’m thankful and sad and mourning and breaking and joyful, all at once. And it’s horrible.

But she’s good now. So we’ll go through this and hold on to that.