My mother loved me so much, she walked away from the man of her dreams. She walked away from real love. But she came back a happy woman. It might sound sort of weird, and I don’t share this part with my grief group, but knowing that I fell for the same man my mother did made me feel strangely close to her. Without thinking about the gross parts, of course. I love that her heart beat for the same person mine did, and that means something. Like she’s still here.
