F.U. Cancer Necklace

18 years ago my mom died of cancer. A brutally random, generally pediatric form of bone cancer called Ewings sarcoma. My stomach still turns after saying those two ugly words. Over the past 18 years, I have experienced every imaginable emotion. I have been left lonely from the loss of my best friend; devastated over the loss that my children are experiencing yet are unaware of (I was seven weeks pregnant with my first son when she passed) and pissed off that I now have to cook Christmas dinner. I exchanged most of my wedding gifts for shoes. I was never planning on knowing how to cook a roast, or explain to my children "why they can't see God." These were going to be her jobs, not mine. Now, I am a mom of two, and I have shelves of stilettos covered in dust, and I just made Halloween cookies that tasted like chicken because I own only one baking sheet. Life was supposed to be different. Aside from sadness, anger and loneliness, my latest emotion is shame. I am so deeply ashamed that I