My mother died when I was 18 years old.
We were just beginning to know each other as adults, finally leaving behind the drama of my adolescence and the tedium of childhood. On the cusp of now turning 36, there is so much my mother didn’t get to see me do. In the years since she died I have graduated college, seen my name in print as a journalist, earned a masters degree, gotten married, published a book and given birth to two daughters, all without her here to witness.
Now that I’m in my 30s I have more of an understanding than ever about what it means to be a daughter, and here’s what I wish I could tell my mother.