Jude Harrison was your mother.
She's been dead for years. You barely remember her.
Your father raised you, but he wasn't the same after she died. It was hard on him.
They were married when she was twenty, when he was twenty-seven.
When she was twenty-four, you were born. You were the light in her eyes, you know that.
You remember that when you were five, she was twenty-nine, and your dad was thirty-six, the cough started.
To her credit, she had never smoked in the house or around you.
But she did smoke, to relieve the stress, she said.
The cough got worse. Pretty soon, she was in the hospital. And then, you remember the day, when Daddy took you aside to explain that Mommy was really sick, and would have to stay in the hospital.
You didn't understand. Every time you had been sick, you'd always gotten better. So Mommy would too.
But she didn't. As the lung cancer ate away at her, you went to kindergarten. When she begged Daddy to have home care, so she wouldn't die in a hospital, you were about to go into first grade.
You would come home every day, and go sit with Mommy. She would ask about your day, and you would explain the latest picture you drew.
But every day, Mommy felt worse. She slept for longer, ate very little, and coughed all the time.
When you were in second grade, Mommy died.
Daddy helped you zip up the black dress. When you asked where Mommy is, he explained that she was with the angels. When you said that you wanted to go too, he smiled softly, and told you that you had to stay and keep him company.
You barely remember the funeral. You know that Daddy stood up to say something, and when he returned, he couldn't stop shaking.
You held Grandma's hand, and asked why he was shaking. She said that he was very sad, and missed Mommy.
You missed Mommy too. You reached over to Daddy and held his hand. He looked up, surprised, but gently squeezed your hand. You smiled, and kissed his cheek. He pulled you onto his lap, and hugged you. You sat with him for the rest of the funeral.
You didn't want him to know, but you felt the tears in your hair.
Daddy never found anyone else to date.
He wasn't the same.
But he never neglected you, and always made sure you had fun.
And now, you're a senior, about to graduate high school.
You visit her grave, to tell her about yourself. You know she'd be proud.
You tell her you miss her, and you wished she was there.
And when you leave, you know she is.