Don't look at me, I'm an orphan now.
Three times an orphan in some senses, having moved out at 19 with no little acrimony (nor much education), then reconciling a few years later. That was followed by moving back nearly a decade later, after some success and one crashing failure at my chosen trade in the exciting, fast-paced broadcast industry. Of course I went right back to it as soon as I could find even a lousy job, despite parental advice not to, and that precipitated another, "and don't come back!" that took even longer to heal.
Heal it did, every time, and not because "your Mom has to." It was made very clear to me growing up that no such obligation existed; quite the reverse. She chose to, both times, and I shall be forever grateful. (And talked my Dad into going along, too, which was no mean feat.)
The last parting, no one ever comes back from. You're left there, alone, and the person who gave you the tools to cope with it? That would be your mother.
If your Mom is still around, today would be a very good day to call her up and tell her that you love her.
One day, she will be too far away to call.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
1 month ago