Amanda Webster
Seventeen days before my son turned 2, my mom died.She, a single mom. Me, an only child. I felt orphaned. And the prospect of facing motherhood without her still hurts. Three years later, my son, now 5, still asks about his Mimi. My daughter, 18 months, will never know her. I’m 35. Married with kids. I own a house, two cars and more stuff than I’d like. By all accounts, I’m a grown woman. But even now, I long for the warmth of the bed we shared. To be curled beside her... more