It’s funny what triggers a memory of my mother. In that first year after her death — two months before Mother’s Day — it was nearly everything: grocery shopping, television commercials, magazine covers. The memory of her perfume, Obsession, was so strong that I would wake up smelling it. I would dream about her, and wake up hearing her call my name.
GUEST COLUMN: Relearning a lost mother's lessons
Sunday, May 13, 2012 | 6:00 a.m. CDT
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