I went to a memorial service today. The mother of a school friend of mine died last week – suddenly, unexpectedly and too early. At the end of the service my friend got up and read a letter she’d written to her mom this week. It was funny, it was reminiscent, it was sweet, loving and it was sad with regrets: the biggest one was that she didn’t get to say goodbye.

She also said something in that letter that really stuck with me. I’ve been thinking about it all day. It was one of those sentences that gets deeper every time I go over it in my head. Every time I think about it, I get more and more meaning from it, see more examples in my own life. She said:

Moms are our first loves, our first friends and our first enemies.

It’s made me think about the stages of my relationship with my mom and the one with my son. She was my first love, my first friend, my first enemy and I have been his. It’s a wonderful, burdensome blessing and cross to bear, motherhood. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world!

The perspective and understanding I’ve gained from being the child and then the mom can bring me to my knees at times! It quite humbling and overwhelming.

After the service, I went to my parents’ house and hugged my mom and hugged my son. I told them both that I loved them. I told my mom what my friend had said and thanked her being all three to me. And when it was time to go home, I held her close and told her goodbye.

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