If I could pick a time, any time I would live in, it would be the summer of 1995.

I was young, a little girl of five, adorable cheeks, little pigtails, vibrant smiling eyes, eternally optimistic, typical.

There was nothing special about that summer, just a regular child playing with her siblings, their mother not too far away. A mundane outing of a day with the small pleasures a single mother could afford. There was no fanciness but what we lacked in material things, we had in spirit.

Now that I look back, I would give anything for that summer again. The smile on my mother’s face as she lay in the field, her face aglow with joy and peace. She was beautiful, the whole world swayed as the grass at her feet, the wind hanging in her hair caressing her for a moment as if even nature craved what she had.

The memory was there, oh sure, but there was no need for such a piece of quality in a young child’s mind. I grew and discarded the memory, after all, it was nothing to me, just a day at the park.

I could never have guessed what gem truly hid in that memory. How much it could have truly meant. There is nothing more nostalgic than a child jumping on their mother, talking a million miles a minute, while my brother jumped and wrestled her in the grass. Somewhere, my older sister hung off a tree, much higher than she should have been, her sweet innocence, and need to explore, to discover the unknown. Her tough little exterior scraped up and her nice clothes covered in dirt. Mischief in the park, after an exciting picnic, the stuff of regular fun back then.

As someone’s child, we do not realize what it is to be a mother, what trials and joys, these emotions can’t be felt the same way as someone who is a mother. To us, it is the freedom that makes us feel alive, that giddy glee of expedition. To a mother it, it is more.

I looked down at the picture of us all huddled together smiling, the picture was taken maybe two years ago. She has always been wonderful, ever optimistic, trusting, loving, alive, the aspiration and dreams written in the small lines just starting around the edges of her eyes. Those lines would deepen and make her even more beautiful to look at, her true love would be found and a family would stay together, forever happy. It is what we assume as a child: that every day will only lead to the endless wonders of the world, but life happens and things change. Children, grow up and become young adults with the desire to do other things to free themselves from the nest, and as is the nature of many that we start to see the world as ours. We have no regard for the others around us, but rather need to find the stability of our own world, creating new friends and we even go so far as to create a new family for ourselves, one that fits the circumstances of the now. We get caught up in our work and our play, the lights, the sound. It confuses and distracts ‘til we have lost sight of that beautiful day in the park, that woman that held our hand that loved us despite struggles, flaws.

Our hearts yearn for that special moment again without ever realizing exactly for what it is that we are searching. Our world entraps us and whisks us away constantly spinning in a dizzying haze; a boyfriend, his family, the need to please, impress, to conform to the ideals they have for us. A boss, a job, a promotion, a daily cycle that leaves you falling into the bed and the arms of your loved one scratching your head trying to remember how you went from a kid who partied and drank to this everyday ideal running to keep up with all you are required to do. You have kids, and they take up your time and you become overwhelmed by all the small things you never realized become a challenge as you fight to survive your day. Everything circles you.

Until, a single phone call.

That woman I cherish, I love so much. The woman I could so easily forget to check in with more than occasionally. That beautiful optimistic person who would never turn me away no matter what I had done or how long I had been away. She is in the hospital with the dreaded life stealer, cancer. I spent the entire drive there trying to figure out how to apologize for my actions, how to express a million ways I wanted to say thank you and I am sorry.

Arriving there, everyone is crowded around her little bed, and looking around. It’s hard to remember when we all stopped for a minute and came together like this. No mess, no fuss, no past resentments, nothing dragged out into the room, just worried faces staring at our once tiny world, laying in the bed.

She is wonderful, the sad stream of light that breaks through the hospital's dingy window constraints shines on her dark chestnut hair, the light playing with the small wisps of silver in the front, the silver a shining crown she wears regallly, a queen in her own right. Her smile lines lead to the most soulful hazel eyes. The gold and green flecks twinkling in the grey share a secret memory only she treasures, one she could share but keeps for herself. She smiles and the worry leaves my dad’s face for a moment, all that is between them is pure love, an unsaid tendril of strength, a silent ‘I will always be by your side’.

I want to speak but she holds out her other hand, the one my dad isn’t ringing gently. We all place our fingers overlapping in hers and the moments of jostling are done with no hostility, no annoyance. She waits for us as we sort ourselves out patiently; she has always been waiting on us, her selfless love ready to strengthen us even now.

I try not to cry, to not feel hate towards myself for ever letting any of them slip away. My dad strokes her hair gently, she looks at him and for a moment their eyes are as amazed and alive as the day they first met. Without a doubt, I could see him whisking her away and protecting her in his arms. Looking around the room her face lights up and a moment of her youth escapes in my mind, that shining memory I forgot I had, pops into my eyes and I look at my mother in a completely new way. She could have been so vulnerable back then but she chose to be strong for us, to show us that we were never alone.

“I feel so incredibly loved right now… we should have gotten together like this more often, like that day so long ago in the park,” she said simply.

I watched as she closed her eyes. The monitor made its last few beeps and with a sinking feeling, I realized the very essence of our lives had suddenly drifted away, surrounded by love.

We sat huddled together for a long time after that all of us enjoying the last gift she had selflessly given us, her peace. The tears and sobs could not be held back any longer and in our agony and loss, we gave into the heart-aching grief. I knew there was also happiness, because knowing mom, wherever she was, she would be giving of herself selflessly, those wonderful gifts she had shared with us.