I miss my mom. My grief comes in unexpected waves now, and today happens to be one of those days where I really miss her. It was 3 years ago that we learned we would be moving to Moscow Idaho and leaving my parents in California. Leaving them was the hardest part of our decision. Over 8 years they had spent a lot of time with us. At first, visiting about every 6 weeks. Then, as my mom’s health got worse and she had more appointments in Los Angeles, they were with us for months at a time. And then, all of the sudden, we weren’t going to be there. And in two more months, my dad would take my mom from our house in Valencia to a care facility in San Gabriel. It would be the last time I hugged or saw my mom in person. When it happened, I knew it could be the last, that she wasn’t well and the doctors weren’t doing much, but even though I knew it mightbe, I don’t think I dared to believe it would be. I have to think that if I had known, for sure, that I would have hugged her longer, been more effusive in telling her how important she was to me and showing her my love. I look back at pictures from those months and wish I had taken more pictures. She wasn’t in great shape, she was super heavy and couldn’t get up to walk or shower regularly. And it didn’t really seem like something worth capturing in a picture, but what I didn’t realize or even think about was how few pictures I would have of her with me, or with my kids from those months. And since Steven was only a baby at the time, there would be far too few pictures of them together—despite her deep love for him and the fact that he would have absolutely adored her. It’s nothing I can change now, and isn’t the worst thing that could have been, but it is certainly something I grieve now. I tried to do it all without regrets—caring for her, helping my dad, having her at our house, visiting her in the care facility—but there were some things I simply couldn’t see to make a different choice.