My mother died on January 1, 2003. She was 86 years old and I was 52. As time passes, I find myself missing her more, because I can't talk to her - discuss my life with her - laugh with her. I truly want to believe in God and an afterlife, because I can't imagine never seeing her again.

She was a very strong woman who looked much younger than her 86 years. She loved life and loved living for and in the moment - always ready for a change or a challenge. She loved to travel, and she loved to gamble. I loved sharing time with her.

She could also be very headstrong. What she said and believed was fixed firmly in her heart and mind, and you could seldom change her way of thinking. When I was much younger, I resented her for this, but as I grew older, I valued her ability to stick firmly to her beliefs.

My mom was the first in her Italian family to marry a non-Catholic, non-Italian. To make matters worse, my dad was half American Indian. Needless to say, my mom and dad were outcasts among most members of the Italian clan, and my dad's family was not particularly fond of the fact that their son had married a foreigner. It was a strange mix that eventually mellowed out for everyone.

How I wish I could have been a fly on the wall back then. My mother and father must have made quite the pair. I know I got my independence and stubboness from them, but I'd also like to think that I inherited their passion and kindness toward their friends and family.

When my mom died, I knew what an impact it would have on my life. Every saying you can think of holds true - "nothing greater than a mother's love," "don't know what you have until it's gone," - - etc. But more than anything, I miss talking to my mom. I miss picking up the phone and telling her the good and bad of my day. I miss hearing her gossip about her neighbors and "bitch" about her sister (the only remaining member of her family). I miss that she never got to see my granddaughter. It would have been so wonderful to share the experiences of being a grandmother with my mom. I miss talking about the weather, and about politics and so many other things. I miss just knowing she's there when I need her.

I wish I could talk to my mom, but I can't - because she is dead.