Today is a significant day. It is my mother’s birthday. If she were still living, she would be one hundred years old today. Born on September 29, 1914, Edith Reichert Perry was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and friend. I miss her.
Mom died from cancer at the young age of sixty-seven. Over these past thirty-three years since her death, I often ponder how wonderful it would be to sit down with her again and have a conversation. What a gift that would be.
Remembering anniversaries and other significant dates stirs the memory. On this anniversary of her birth, I remember, with gratitude, how her lived example taught me so much.
To read more about my mother and our relationship, please go here.