My mother died suddenly 29 years ago. I remember looking through her possessions for evidence of her love for me. She saved a few of my birthday and Mother’s Day cards… but I never found anything in her own handwriting that told me that she loved me. When I was in college, she would send me recipes or Ann Landers columns signed, “Love, Mother.” What I remember about her was the way she would stand in the doorway and slightly wave her hand, saying, “carry on” each time I would leave her. And so, I do.
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