To live 15 years without her.

I'm not sure why it became common to measure the time that has passed since a loved one died. I don't know how old she would be. Her birthdays have ceased to be important. But I know I've lived 15 years without her.

I've heard my mother was an amazing woman. I don't remember a whole lot, to be completely honest. And I know my view is warped, because, in my mind, she was perfect. And I know that no one is perfect or even good.

But I do know that April day 15 years is one of those times you look back on and see a clear divide between what came before and what came after. There are lots of days like that. Graduations of sort. When you graduate, you don't know all the ways your life is about to change, but you know that everything that is coming after is different from what came before. Marriages, having children, changing jobs, moving, they are draw lines in the sand that you can't return from.

I like where I'm at in life right now. I know I wouldn't be here if mom were still alive. But I struggle to fight those what ifs that start to creep in sometimes.

I know my God is good, and I know my God is powerful. I guess when it comes to wondering what good God is working though my mothers death, I'll have to trust his character. Because I don't know how to trace his hand.