temple_loren

Today on this day, i'm taking a drive to the cementery to put flowers on the grave of my dear mother, Cynthia who lived a very young, short life at 15 who left on this day 24 years ago, 9 days before my first birthday. My mother was a happy-go-lucky person which I have learned stories from my mother and her friends saying that she loved to fight in school if someone pissed her off, but she cared about people and she loved mygrandmother (referred to her as "mom") who had raised me as her own daughter, along with my aunt and uncle who gave me an wonderful, beautiful childhood and an perfect stable homelife who she worked very hard of giving what we wanted and appreciated.


Before she passed, my mother worried about was my mom, worried that she would be okay, and mostly worried that I, her only daughter would stay with her and her siblings where she belonged, instead being taken care of my deadbeat dad whose now an now lowlife, beadbeat, srung-out, bastard who fathered 4 more children who he was NEVER in their lives, including myself who I didn't see much in every 5-10 years which I don't have nothing, anthing else to do with him.

The only thing is I got to see me her when I was a baby, and I looked at photo albums occassionally of me and my mother. I know she's up there, looking at me right now, saying "I'm very proud of you, you made your mother proud, I know you can do it!" and I did make her after all, by trying not listening to people saying that "You can't do this", You can't do that!", "It's too much for you." "How are you gonna to do it", and "It doesn't suit you." She wanted to become a lawyer or a nurse to try to cure luekemia which she was diagnosed that ultimately claimed her.

I still loved my mother, I always never forget about her because I look like her everyday: her eyes and her smile and we wear glasses.

Love you Mom kiss:

Here's a pic of her:

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