The other day I went to Target to get some face moisturizer because I was running out.
As I was walking through the store, I saw an older woman looking at a cute crop top in the girls’ section. She pulled it off the rack and held it up, examining it.
I’m sure she was just looking at it for her granddaughter or something, but it instantly reminded me of how my mom would look at clothing that wasn’t appropriate for her whenever we went out shopping.
She would pick up a pair of skinny jeans or a sweater she would never wear and hold it up, as if she was trying to determine whether or not she wanted to buy it.
I used to get so embarrassed and annoyed by it. I would grab the piece of clothing out of her hands and put it back before anyone saw her looking at it.
“Mom! Come on! Why are you looking at that? That’s not for you!”
It is so painful to think back on those times. I feel such a deep ache in my chest and an intense yearning to transport back in time knowing what I know now because the truth is I would give anything—absolutely anything—to go shopping with my mom one more time. I would let her look at all the tube tops, mini skirts, and skinny jeans she wanted.
But that’s the thing about life. There are no do-overs, especially once someone has died. And the realization at the permanence of death left me nearly sobbing in the skincare aisle at Target that morning.
Because no matter how badly I wanted to leave that store to go see my mom and hug her tightly and tell her I’m sorry for the times I was short with her or rude to her, I just couldn’t.
And that sucks.
It really freaking sucks.
I just have to tell myself that she already knows.
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