I started calling my mom "moth" in high school. I had seen an episode of The Simpsons, in which Bart went in to a tattoo parlor to get a "mother" tattoo-- the kind with a ribbon floating over a heart. In the episode, Marge interrupts the tattoo application, so instead of saying "mother," it just read "moth."
That cracked me up. So my brothers and I took to calling our beloved moth "moth." Most people probably don't get the reference, so they see me posting sad posts on Facebook about my moth around the time of her anniversary or birthday or Mother's day. They're probably like, why give up on the last two letters? You're right there. It's just an 'e' and an 'r,' and you're there. You're right there.
Nah, it's moth. It's amusing to me.
Yesterday marked ten years since my moth left. My grief has been all over the place. Lately, it's been a little more somber. But such is life. It's full of feelings. My feelings have feelings. I miss her, but also, I'm ok. Kinda. I'll never be fully ok, and that's ok.
And I think it's time for me to finally get that "moth" tattoo overlayed on an ornate heart with flowers curling behind it.