A mother, after all, is your entry into the world. She is the shell in which you divide and become a life. Waking up in a world without her is like waking up in a world without sky: unimaginable.
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.
My very first recollection of life on earth was waking up in bed with my mother, and she was showing me a picture of my father, Charles Jackson, with a group of soldiers.
At 50, I began to know who I was. It was like waking up to myself.