It's amazing how you can remember where you were and what you were doing during significant events.
I was interviewing a meth addict in the Adams County Probation Department five years ago today when my mom died. I was in a courtroom covering the sentencing when Phil Carlson of The Whig walked into the courtroom with a message from my brother in Arizona.
I called him from the State's Attorney's office. He told me. I fell on my knees.
I remember walking down Jail Alley and blubbering like a fool. I wrote a horrible story about a bad person. And I went home, and I don't remember much more.
I miss my mother. Every day. She had a great ride for 65 years, but she was retiring from teaching school and looked forward to traveling and spending more time with her grandkids.
My mother was always so dang happy, even when life smacked her upside the head and was really cruel to her.
I can still hear her voice, sing-songing hello on the phone.
I miss her so much. But today I was determined to be happy, for her.
For the most part, it was a good day.
Miss you mom. You are in a better place. I will see you there some day, with any luck.