One of my favorite quotes about parenting is from the writer Meghan O’Rourke who says, “A mother is a story with no beginning.”

April 24 is a difficult day for me. It’s the day four years ago when we said good-bye to my mama.

My mother died a few weeks after the cancer that we thought she had beaten returned with a vengeance. When she got sick, I took our three children and went to Iowa to take care of her while Jeff finished out the semester at Texas State. It was an incredibly hard time in our lives, but this community opened its heart to us and rallied around me and my family in an amazing way. I will never forget the outpouring of love and support we received and it’s one of the reasons why Jeff and I are so glad to be raising our family in San Marcos.

My mom was tough, and smart, and funny. She didn’t pull any punches, and you could always count on her to give you her honest opinion. She loved to read and she loved children. When I was in elementary school she served as a class mom and co-led a Great Books club.

Born during the early years of World War II, my mom was raised on a farm in Iowa. My grandfather farmed and my grandmother taught in a one-room schoolhouse. They were frugal folks who knew what it meant to scrimp and save, who knew what it meant to conserve, who understood the value of a dollar. They didn’t have much, but they made do. And they placed a great value on hard work, responsibility, and education. Just as her mother had for her, my mother saw to it that both of her daughters received great educations.

I miss my mother every day, but I’ve been especially missing her lately. I know how much she would love to see our new house and to watch the kids play ball.

The other day my littlest, who was less than a year old when my mother died, said to me completely unprompted, “I wish your mommy was here to vote for you. I think she’d be really proud of you.”