I have seen people who did not ever get the love they needed from their mothers. Their mothers are still living, and they have little or no dealings with one another. Special occasions come and go – not a word is spoken. The child grows, but is stunted because they never get ‘mommyfied’. That’s what my eight-year-old niece calls it. Being Mommyfied means getting lots of hugs and kisses and sharing sweet snacks and laughing at old jokes and riddles just because. Being Mommyfied means getting deep in trouble one minute and being hugged and cuddled the next – and being loved either way. People who were never Mommyfied miss out on a world of confidence. The love of my mother made me know that life was worth living, and that I could accomplish things if I wanted to. I had what it took – I just had to perform. And if I failed, it’s ok… because Moma loves me. Even though she is dead, I say ‘loves’, not ‘loved’. Present tense. She lives in my heart because of all the time she gave me and the love she lavished upon me. And look – she got sick when I was young, so to me she actually died long before she died. Her personality – and the love that came with it – died long ago. But I remember that love, and it carries me to the shore everyday. I reach the beach because of you, Moma. One day, when we are reunited in God’s New World, I will tell you of all the things you helped me do long after you were captured by The Last Enemy. I feel badly for those who have missed out on a mother’s love. Even a little bit of Mommy helps.