Pardon my being incredibly personal today (especially with my absence as of late), but today is one that does not fail to lead me into deep introspection. Today is the tenth anniversary of my mother's death. Even though I was still a child when she passed, many memories of her still stick with me stronger than many others and not a day goes by where I don't think about her.
She taught me many things, and why not, she was a high school English teacher after all. I remember her little tips for remembering spelling and grammar, the advice she gave me about boys, the do's and don'ts of colour-matching, the joys of giving people little presents any time, and so much more. And even while I still like to mix navy and black (sorry, mom!) I can still her her saying them in my head as if it was last week.
My mother was crafty, which is where I got that trait from I am certain. I used to watch her in her study making her miniature rooms (which were amazing, and on display at her wake) or letter-writing or painting. I loved her dedication to even the smallest things, like the calligraphy she would write letters in as Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy in response to mine.
She even took what might be my first Wardrobe Remix photo:
(Please ignore my little brother passed out on the floor.)I don't know if I will ever have children, but I am positive that I will be a very similar mother to my children as she was to me and my brother. I have honoured her memory in many ways already, including various projects in my undergrad career (in particular a self-portrait project based on her lifelong collection of journals entitled
A Portrait As Roxanne). Even though my time spent with her was short in the grand scheme of things, and I am deeply saddened not to be friends with her as an adult, I know she would be incredibly proud of all I have accomplished thus far and I am happy I got 13 wonderful years with her.
I love you and miss you, mom.
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