Moms. Again.

Mother's Day came to pass. I called mine, even called my grandmas. Two of them, anyway. Wished a happy one to a few of my friends, too.

Then it went away. That's what Holidays do, they expire, and the very next day, storefronts are loaded with the next spenders' trap.

And as it did years ago, just as it had faded from memory, bad news came on all fronts, from everywhere.

A really good friend of mine lost her mother early this year; now, her father's girlfriend has been diagnosed with cancer. My best friend's mom just got diagnosed with cancer, too, forcing him to come back from Mexico earlier than he'd expected. Even the former Lady Of The House's birther got a crappy diagnosis recently.

Mine's healthy, joyous, happy. She's the ideal mom for my brother and I - she's been treating us like adults since we were kids, teaching us about taking responsibility for our actions really early on. The kid's lucky, too, 'cause I made the usual 'teenage mistakes' first, so he didn't even get half the yellings I got, lucky bugger.

We took her for granted for much of our lives; we're too independent for our own good. Nearing and reaching 30, I started to realize it would suck to lose her without letting her know how I feel, how important she is to us.

She knows, now, even if she remains the one who initiates contact most times.

It's weird, because I'm at the age where people I've known all my life are dropping like fucking flies - especially the older folk - and it got me thinking about death, about getting terrible news myself, and I think...

Fuck. I think I'd be more ready to hear I'd be terminally sick than hearing it'd be her.

I've lived my life so that if/when the time came, I'd have the least amount of regrets possible, that I'd have the least amount of miserable days compared to good ones as possible.

But I'm not ready to let her go.

Take care of your moms, people.