Love. It's what we feel, but sometimes we don't realize it exists. How we feel about others means a lot to us. Who do I love? My mother. What do I love? The love he gave me. Where do I love? Stanley Park, the park where he took me for ice cream as a child. When do I love? Always. Always and forever. Why do I love? Because my mother taught me to love. It was the one I ran to crying when I was a child. She was the one who told me that everything would be okay because we had each other. It was her I wanted to tell all my secrets. It was the one I knew would never let me down. She was the one I let go. When I was a child, my mother and I had an amazing bond. She was the only one I knew who my "family" was. I had no siblings, my dad left before I was even born, and mom never talked about her parents. I once asked her where her family was. She wrote back and told me that her family was talking to her right now. He always changed the subject when I mentioned his parents. I thought it was a game and I would try to get out what little information I could get. I've never been successful. After a while I gave up. My mother and I had a bond that no one else I knew had. We could have talked for hours on end. Everything changed when I entered high school. That's when I went to the "big kids' school." I couldn't always be with my mother, it would be embarrassing. I didn't want to be called a child. I was officially a “big kid.” Whenever I was outdoors with my mother, I distanced myself from her. He asked me why I was walking so fast, but I didn't dare turn around. Little by little I drifted further and further away. Eventually, it got to the point where we barely talked... middle of paper... then it starts snowing, and why do I only know I love her when I let her go? Why couldn't I see it before? Why didn't I know what I had until I lost it? My love was lost in time and I couldn't get it back. I was the one who made her life miserable, not the other way around. My regret is something I can never erase. It will be there forever. I will never forget how I treated my mother and how I hurt her. She was my life. She is the reason I love. My mom is love. She is who, what, where, when and why I love. She was a person who put others before herself. She didn't mind suffering if it meant people would feel better. He was a selfless person and I was the antagonist in his life. Now I know how to appreciate what I have because it may not be there later. I love my mother more than anything in the world, yet I let her go.