Loss of a Mother

I only know what I have experienced, and that is the love between a mother and a daughter; I do not know the love between a mother and a son, nor can I pretend to understand. This is why I feel of little use to my husband. I have met death, I have felt death in the room, I have seen what death destroys, I have seen what death fosters, I have screamed at death, I have forbid it come, I have heard death delay and I have seen it rush. Yet death does not hear me nor see me nor feel me; for this should I be thankful?
I do not know that first breaths pain inhaled after losing mother. I have not walked upon this earth without her presence; I have not awakened to the silencing of her voice. Do you hear her still small voice as you shiver under cover? Do you feel her soft cool breath as you bandage up a knee? Do you see a glimpse of her as you stand affront the mirror? Do you recognize her in your child as some distant memory?