My mom, Shirley O'Brien, was an impressionable woman. I remember once when a friend told her that nobody uses breadboxes anymore, she kept the breadbox but always left the bread outside of it. When people told her something, it sank in. Likewise, she had a way of leaving an impression on people. That made her the perfect person for sharing life's ups and downs. Whatever would happen - well, almost - I had to tell her. Sometimes I'd take her advice; sometimes I wouldn't. One thing was consistent: she always wanted the best for me and my brother. She always had her worries about my being in a business not exactly known for longevity and my brother being a policeman with all the danger that could entail, but she was proud. All she wanted was a little attention. It was something she didn't always get growing up in an extended family with a father and mother who couldn't always be there. I saw her practically every day, especially after my father passed away 33 years ago. I know she had to leave for a better place when she passed away last Sunday on her 87th birthday. I already miss having that person to share my hopes, joys and fears.
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