Do “things” hold meaning for you? Going through my mother’s things, I find so many “things” that hold meaning, have memories attached. I found a pill splitter, who cares about a pill cutter? But both Ashlee and I distinctly remember buying it for her when we brought her to our house after her heart surgery. I came across all her cross stitch stuff and lost my wits. You could almost always count on my mom sitting somewhere (her couch, the hospital, your couch, road trips) doing cross stitch. This piggy bank, I gave to my mom in 1997 when I worked at Hallmark (I was 17 years old). My mom loved him and filled him quite a bit full, someone robbed that money but the piggy stayed. She had planned to fill it and take a trip with it some day, maybe I’ll do the same. Behind her piggy is the purse I bought her for valentine’s day. I haven’t cleaned it out…. These things aren’t THINGS, they are pieces of my mom and they are everywhere. No one really understands the connection she and I had. She was a part of me and I a part of her. Tomorrow I’ll go to a butterfly release to celebrate my mom at Heart’n Home Hospice as the last grief counseling group. Friday will mark three months (13 weeks, 92 days) without my mom. It hasn’t gotten any easier for me, to live without her.