For the most part, I struggled to put my finger on what was wrong with me during that time period, but when I found myself crying, it always seemed to be for my mom. Yes, other things were getting me down, too, but I missed her dreadfully. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Did I want her to comfort me, or was the other stuff a symptom of the sorrow?
Maybe because today is her birthday, the 5th birthday without her, and I've heard that we often mourn anew just before a significant date rather than on the date itself. I miss her presence around Christmas because she loved decorating for Christmas. I remember we always had our decor up by Dec. 1, if not actually Thanksgiving weekend.
Happy Birthday, Mom! I hope you're having a good time in Heaven.