Sometimes, when we get older, we beat ourselves up for things we didn't know when we were kids. It's not like we can be blamed for our ignorance, though, but something inside us says things would be drastically different if you had just known that one thing.

Everyone is at some point a child, but not everyone experiences childhood, and that is why I think it is a privilege. I think children are born to homes and pasts they don't choose, and I think some of those kids should be prayed for. Not every home is ready to take care of a child's everyday demands. Not every family is ready to accept the life and joy a baby brings. Sometimes, parents need to do a bit of their own healing before they think it's the right time to bring a child to the earth.

In my case, my mother left me too early. I was fifteen. I was at a friend's house, having just convinced my aunt and grandma to let me sleep over. Suddenly, an urgent call from my aunt left me in tears: I had to pack my bags that instant, I could not sleepover, and we'd talk when we got home. I thought I was in trouble for something. I thought one of my earlier delinquencies would have caught up with me, but no. It had nothing to do with that.

When a daughter loses her mother it is hard to put into words the feelings that follow. Should there be sadness? Remorse? Self-pity? Guilt? Fear? I felt all of those things, and it wasn't fun trying to sort them out. I instantly felt alone, despite having failed to call her for three whole weeks prior to her death. I wasn't ready to be alone. I wasn't ready to deal with problems by myself and not have anyone to talk to that actually "got" me.

Grief is a long, confusing process. It's been almost four years since I lost my mom. It took a long time to sort out the resentments I'd had towards her during adolescence. I feel at peace with her now, like she is with me everywhere I go. The grieving process is horrible on the nerves. I hear songs in public that make me think of her and it's painful keeping in the tears. Sometimes I get angry, and I yell at God. Sometimes I wallow so deep that I don't see myself getting out of my hole.

I take it in stride, though, and I try bringing peace and love to every heart I touch. It's the least I could do in her wake.