Someone who lost her mother when she was young once told me that it feels like being homesick.
I think of it often.
It's been years since I felt that desperate longing, but I remember it.
Mothers are our first home. And they remain our homes for as long as they live.
And when they are gone, we remember them still. In our blood and bones. In our heart and soul and mind. In our memories. In our code.