Twenty-three years ago this July... I buried my mom. It was two decades ago, but I sit here today... crying like it happened yesterday. The wound is still large and tender, not because I haven't processed the pain of her death, but because grief really is that deep and the tendrils of its reach extend down through the time in ways unimagined when the wound is still fresh. I miss the clarity that her words brought to my daily worries, crazy dreams and bigger-than-life goals. Somehow she always knew what my heart was truly seeking during those conversations. I was once told that my mom had given me all the things I needed to succeed and that I was prepared to live life without her. Although intended to be words of comfort and consolation they missed the mark in my mind of what losing her really meant. Relationships... family or friends... true relationships are not really transaction centered. "You give me this... I give you that..." "Do th...