My mom died 27 years ago today. I was 14. She was 42.
Today isn't a day of grief, just an anniversary. Marking the anniversary lets me remember pleasant thoughts about my mom.
One thing I'm remembering today is living in Seattle when I was little. My mother loved coffee. Usually bad coffee. Like any kids, we'd get excited whenever she pulled the car into a McDonalds parking lot. Most times, we were soon disappointed when she gave us a dime to just go in and get her a cup of black coffee. Sometimes we all went into McDonalds and sat down at a table while she drank her coffee. (I'm sure there must be some child-abuse laws on the books now to forbid that.) Coffee was her lone extravagance. It'd be fun to share a cup of coffee with her today.