When I was young I would sneak into my parents' room, crouch beside my mother and whisper "mummy I am feeling sick." She would jump right up and that would be the end of sleep for her for the night. I spent the last year trying to care for my mother, who, for most of the time, was more concerned about how I was doing. Every time someone commented on what a good child I was to leave my work and life to take care of my mother, I blushed. I blushed because I knew that she would have done a 100 times more, had the situation been reversed. 

One of my last phone calls to her, she called me her golden girl. She was always so proud of me.

Mummy I wish we had had more time. Less than two weeks and I would have been back to you. Yet, I thank God for the last months we spent together: from going to the mall, grocery shopping and cooking, working out in the gym -- we had some good moments, and then, waiting in hospitals, testing labs, doctors' offices -- we had some bad times.

As the naughty child I was, I never listened to you but now I hear your voice so loud and clear in my head. You have left me the legacy to love others like you would have, to never give up like you would never have. Since you left, every single thing I have done has gone right. I know with all certitude that I have a guardian angel watching over me now.

Maman, tu me manque. Tu as beaucoup souffert. Alors, dors bien maintenant. Bisous.