Here it is again. The anniversary of my moms death. (Actually, she died on May 5, 2003)

My how time flies. Twelve years she has been dead. I miss her plenty and have learned more about her since she died, than I ever knew about her when she was alive.

There are several reasons for that fact. One is that secrets were big in our family, and we never talk about anything important or interesting. Another reason is she was my mom, and not my friend. At least not the way I know some daughters are with their mothers. We held a distance in our relationship that was not hateful or mean, but indifferent.

I am grateful that today, it is hard to remember my indifference of her. I look back now with such love, respect, and admiration. Some may call it a false memory, but I say we’ve grown and healed. Okay, I have — she’s dead.

Still, I honestly believe, knowing what I know now, I would have been a much better daughter to her. I’d like to think that if I had been, she could have been a better mother and we might have become friends. I’d like to think so anyway.

We’ll never know, but time sure has eased the hurt, misunderstandings, and challenges. I know I miss her.

Here are three photos I found. One is Alice as a baby in front of what I’m going to guess is her Uncle Jim’s car in NYC.  The second is her in the yard of her house in Colorado. I love how put together she looks. And finally, with me. I remember the dress I am wearing, I remember her necklace, but I don’t remember where or when we shared this visit and I don’t remember posing for this at all.

But, I remember mama.