By Mary Anderson

Time flies whether we are having fun or not. Another Mother’s Day has passed, and this one has been bittersweet for me. Last year on Mother’s Day, I rounded up my children for a family photo, the first in probably 10 years.

After breakfast, we met with a photographer who ignored the smirks and whining to obtain the portrait. I requested that instead of gifts, each would write what they had learned from me over the years.

Emilie, 26, described the friendships and social skills she developed watching me entertain and visiting with such diverse personalities over the years. She was touched that I have kept close with friends I met from preschool to college, at Hewlett-Packard and beyond.

Hunter, 15, wrote about finding my prosperity program amusing. He noted that the jar I keep full of change to attract more funds would instantly grow because of the quarter he taped to his card.

Taylor, 22, didn’t present a note that day, but I was confident one would show up and didn’t mention the oversight.

A gorgeous week followed that Mother’s Day, although at midweek there was an unusual rainfall. Emilie had returned to her work and home in San Francisco, Hunter was off to high school and Taylor was looking for a new job.

That day ended quietly - until the phone rang at 1:30 a.m. It was Valley Medical Center telling me Taylor had been in a car accident and was barely holding onto life. In disbelief, I said it was impossible, he was home in bed with a bad cold. Not so.

I reached the hospital with the rain pouring down. The doctor met me at the elevator door. Taylor had just died from massive internal injuries. I became numb. Only now, after a year of holidays and reminders, am I beginning to realize the indescribable pain of losing a child.

After his funeral, searching in the back seat of my car, I found Taylor’s card, tucked in the pocket behind the driver’s seat. He must have put it there before that breakfast. He wrote about unconditional love and being there for somebody and the connection he had with my father, my mother and my brother.

If only I had known - I wouldn’t have gotten my hair done that week or gone to that baseball game. I would have sat and stared at him, knowing that he would be gone soon.

If any one person could define how much living could be packed into 24 hours, Taylor was the one. He had a dynamic personality, he was very funny - and smart. He lived every day as if it were his last. I guess Taylor’s angel couldn’t keep up with his wild spirit that blustery night. I am the lucky woman who was his mom for 22 years.

I wrote this article to honor him and express how much I miss him every day. With the support of those close to our family and Taylor’s group of friends, there has been a tight circle formed around Emilie, Hunter and me as we deal with this unimaginable loss.

Listen carefully to those close to your heart. We never know what’s next - cherish those moments, memories and milestones.

Anderson is a longtime Los Altos resident.