Category: Grief

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Three Dragonflies

My mom has come back to me in many ways since her passing in 2017. She appeared as a duck following my son, making him laugh. I’ve seen her in my son’s teacher, soaking up a tender moment with him. She’s talked to me through my friends, giving advice that sounds like it came directly from her mouth. And I’ve seen her in my dreams as a younger version of herself, doing something she would’ve been afraid to do in this lifetime. No matter how she appears, she always feels like my mom. Warm, maternal, and nostalgic. I know with unwavering certainty it’s her. 

In August 2024 my dad remarried. I am thrilled for him and his new wife and so glad that they’ve found each other. They make each other really happy and I love seeing my dad happy. Still, a part of me felt sad that day. I missed my mom. A part of me feels like when I see him I should still be able to see her. I avoided the dance floor and planted myself in a chair outside of the reception where I could watch my son play with his cousins. Toward the end of the night my husband pulled me onto the dance floor and our four-year-old joined us. We danced, lights twinkling above us, and I looked up. A dragonfly?! Warm, maternal, nostalgic. It was my mom. 

I believe in signs. I believe that if I’m unsure about something or am looking for confirmation, that the Universe, or God will place signs in my path. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that seeing the dragonfly at my dad’s wedding was a sign. It felt like a warm reminder that all is well. That night while meditating before bed I asked my mom if the dragonfly was her. The answer felt clear. Still, I asked her to send me three more dragonflies the next day as I slipped off to sleep. 

We kicked off our morning at the Museum of Nature and Science. My parents were members when I was a child and I walked those halls with them more times than I can count. It was a joy showing my son and husband around. As we walked through the Prehistoric Journey exhibit my son pressed a button, illuminating one figurine on the wall. “A dragonfly!” He shouted. Confirmation number one.

That afternoon we went to Lakeside Amusement Park. We were watching our son on one of the rides when a dragonfly landed on the fence, right next to our hands. “Dragonfly number two,” I beamed. 

As the sun lowered in the sky we hopped aboard Lakeside’s train. We went to Lakeside at least twice a summer when we lived in Colorado and riding the train is a tradition. After we boarded, I looked to my right and saw dozens of dragonflies. I laughed, feeling my mom’s sense of humor. It was as if she were to say, “Need more proof, Baby Girl?”

I believe my mom was with me at my dad’s wedding and that she is with me everyday. It’s been seven really sad years. This year I feel more at peace. I’m like, super annoyed that she died and really wish she didn’t. But overall at peace. Still, I watch for signs of her all around me and express gratitude when she is loud enough for me to witness. I will forever hold these signs and synchronicities close to my heart, as a symbolic scrapbook of moments when she came back to be Grandma Sandy once again.

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It’s been six years since my mom passed away

Six years ago, when I was 25 years old, I received a call from my parent’s neighbor informing me that my mother was found deceased in my childhood home. I was with my mom the night before and there were no signs of her being ill, let alone having catastrophic heart problems. She was only 61 years old. My best friend, the woman who raised me, was gone. 

Grief is personal. If you’re wondering why I’m sharing such difficult memories, it’s because writing has always been how I process my emotions. I journal several days a week to get the words out. The more I write, the easier the words flow. Over the past six years I’ve discovered that sharing my experience can help others process their emotions as well. In 2018 I wrote a blog post titled, It’s Been Six Months Since My Mom Passed Away and still receive private messages to this day from strangers who come across it. When we’re going through something hard, there’s power in knowing we aren’t alone.

The role that will never be replaced

My mom was so much more than a mom. Her name was Sandy. She was a devout Christian and loved God and her church community. My mom loved children, especially her own three daughters, but there were so many children in my mom’s heart. She devoted much of her life to working with children of all ages.

My mom was brilliant, witty, and kind, but her greatest power was making others feel seen. I usually found her on her recliner, cackling on the phone with her sisters or friends. So many people came to my mom for emotional support or a mood boost. I never once heard her say a bad thing about her sisters or friends, a sense of loyalty I always admired.

For years I mourned the loss of a mom who was so much more than a mom. Now that I’m a mom, I see the beauty in having a hole in my heart that will never be replaced. There’s only ever going to be one Sandy Madura and I was lucky enough to call her my best friend.

My support group

The traumatic loss of my mom required me to lean on others like never before. Sadly, many of my friends at the time said nothing, avoiding the topic of my mom’s death entirely. Whether or not they realized it, many only responded to the news of my mom’s death by “liking” the obituary I posted on Facebook. I take partial responsibility, I didn’t treat the subject with the gentleness it deserved.

If I could go back to 2017, I would handle the news of my mom’s passing for what it was: Personal, heartbreaking and life-altering. I wish I would’ve called my friends and told them my mom died unexpectedly. I needed support, and I wish I said those words out loud. Home was the only place I felt safe crying and I wish someone stopped by to check on me. Most of all, I wanted my friends to step up. I lost my mom and I needed them to put their egos aside and check-in. I wasn’t looking for solutions or wise words, I just didn’t want to be alone.

The last six years have taught me how important friendship and community is. Now, I see how beautiful life can be when I make a conscious effort to be vulnerable in my relationships. The more authentic we are, the deeper our friendships become. I am so lucky to have a handful of women who really know me, whom I also consider my best friends.

Give yourself time to grieve

Death is a natural part of life yet it is such a taboo subject. When my mom died, I was a 25-year-old marketing specialist at a corporate office. Our workplace allotted two days of bereavement to grieve, so three days later I walked into the office and told my colleagues what had happened. 

I’m not going to sugarcoat this, I didn’t take care of myself the way I should have following a life-altering event. As a lifelong people pleaser I was terrified of dropping the ball at work. I cried only in the privacy of my own home and did all I could to compartmentalize my emotions. When my emotions could no longer be contained, I disconnected from my body, running from the pain. 

Our bodies need time to process emotions. Over the past six years I learned the hard way that ignoring emotions causes illness, fatigue, and resentment. Due to years of emotional neglect, my body was trained to ignore the signs of distress, especially if it would affect others around me. I have been working on checking in with myself throughout the day to see what I need. Some days I need rest, some days I need to move my body, other days beg for me to be creative. Whatever it may be, I’m proud to say I’m not ignoring my emotional, physical, or psychological needs any longer.

Signs and visitation dreams

I will never forget the darkest days of grief. Losing my mom made me question everything, including what I believed about heaven and God. I wasn’t finding my mom in grief despite pleading to God to prove that she was still with me. The message I received was to be brave enough to sit still with my feelings and be curious. So I started meditating, and that’s where I found the most peace.

Today, I feel my mom’s presence without begging God for it. Sometimes I’ll smell her bath oil, or hear her voice in place of mine, or see her in my dreams. When she appears in my dreams she shares advice, holds me in her arms, or just walks with me. One night, in line with her witty sense of humor, she even acted as my taxi driver in Cuba!

I believe my mom communicates with me through signs, too. In the book Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson, Jackson recommends asking for specifics when communicating with loved ones who have passed. The more I asked for guidance, the more signs appeared. Soon, I was seeing “angel numbers” like 11:11, 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, everywhere. Signs and synchronicities feel like my mom saying hello, reminding me I am on the right path. 

2023 Update

My son, who turns four in February, has a mom who is modeling how rich life can be when we listen to our bodies and feel the entire spectrum of emotions. While my healing journey may never be complete, I truly feel I’m doing my best. I am so proud of the progress I’ve made, internally and externally.

Conclusion

If you are in the thick of grief, remember you are not alone. When you lose someone who means the world to you, you might feel like you’ve lost your world. Give yourself time to heal and remember that healing looks different for everyone. I pray you find people who make space for you as you navigate grief and that you see signs reminding you to keep going. Most of all, I hope you find peace during this difficult time. 

Thanks for reading,

Emma

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12 Ways to Ease the Pain of Grief

Point Reyes day trip

It’s been a little over a year since my mom passed away unexpectedly.

Recently, a young woman reached out to me and asked, ‘Does it get easier?’ I told her, Yes, it does get easier. Or maybe you just get stronger.

She had come across one of my blog posts as she grieved the unexpected loss of her mom. She was at her lowest point in grief, desperate for someone to say that the hardest days would soon be behind her. I know that point all too well.

Below are 12 things that actually helped as I coped with the loss of my mom.

Find a connection in nature

Ideally, it will be something that you come across only ever so often. I see my mother in the changing colors of the leaves in fall.

Keep a palm sized item of theirs

I have my mom’s Estée Lauder Youth Dew Bath Oil that she used once in a blue moon. Scent is a strong trigger of memory. I still hold the little bath oil bottle during my toughest breakdowns and it brings me so much comfort.

Watch for traits of your loved one in others

It could be personality traits or physical traits. Weird example — my mom had a smallpox vaccine scar on her upper left arm (not uncommon for her age). I saw another woman with that scar and just about lost it. It was such a small detail on my mom’s arm. I’m shocked I remember it so vividly!

Separate yourself from tangible memories

I know, I said to keep a palm sized item…but I challenge you to keep it to just one item. I found it cathartic to go through my mother’s closet and donate her old clothes. Inanimate objects don’t keep the person’s memory alive. Those items provide a false sense of security, in my opinion.

Scan all your photos

So you can access them online at any time. It’s been over a year and I still can’t click through my mom’s Flickr album without crying.

Share the funny stories

Grief doesn’t have to be so serious. Just the other day, I told a complete stranger that my mom kept her nearly-broken toaster for over 30 years because it was a wedding present, and she was afraid that throwing away the toaster would jinx her marriage. The funny thing is that my mother wasn’t superstitious, just frugal.

Talk to your loved one

Out loud. I talk to my mom while I’m in the car, almost as if I’m praying to her. Then I guess what she would say back if she were in the car with me. Somehow she still always gives the best advice.

See the signs

Of course I would see a hummingbird for the first time in years as I write this blog post. I promise, when you look out for signs of your loved one, you start seeing them everywhere.

Do something in honor of them

It could be as simple as having a glass of Merlot in their memory. As you sip the glass, imagine them right there next to you.

Find formal and informal grief groups

Joining a church-led grief group was one of the first things that actually helped me move forward in grief. I wasn’t attending church regularly at the time, and being amongst Christians that reminded me of my mom was incomparable. Talking to others who lost a loved one helped tremendously, too. We’re the club that no one wants to be in, but everyone will eventually join — the club of people who have lost someone very close to them.

Listen to their favorite songs

My mom went through a Macy Gray and Norah Jones phase. She loved to blast their albums on Saturday mornings while cleaning the house. She also got a kick out of watching me roll my eyes as she danced and sang into the broom handle. Music is almost as powerful as scents when it comes to memory triggers.

Live life the way they would have wanted you to live

On the one year anniversary of my mom’s passing, my husband and I went to church for the first time in a long time. We now attend every Sunday and are exploring our faith together, just as my mom always encouraged us to do.

 

The ultimate goal for anyone grieving is to turn their misfortune into something that helps others. That’s a major stage of grief as you adjust to your loss.

After losing my mom, I didn’t plan on writing about my grief. I wrote a couple of blog posts about her because I had this otherworldly writers block that prevented me from writing anything else until I wrote about my mom.

But those posts seemed to help others, so much so that they continue to be my most searched blog posts to date. Something’s telling me I need to continue to share my story.

About once a week, I receive a heartbreaking private message from someone grieving. If you are one of those people, please do not hesitate to contact me. I’m no expert, but we can be informal grief group buddies.

Other posts that may be helpful

5 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Mom

The Story Behind The Phone Call That Changed My Life

What To Say To Someone Who Has Lost A Loved One

It’s Been Six Months Since My Mom Passed Away

A Gloomy Day at Point Reyes

Thanks for reading,

Emma

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A Gloomy Day at Point Reyes

I love the fog in Northern California. We didn’t have much fog in Colorado. I remember one foggy morning when I was in elementary school. It was so foggy I couldn’t see the stop sign down the road. I thought, ‘The sky is falling! The world is coming to an end.’

I was a little melodramatic.

The fun part about being new to a state is that every weekend is an adventure. We heard Point Reyes was stunning, so off we went to explore another piece of our new paradise.

Getting there

Point Reyes National Seashore is located on the coast of Marin County, about an hour north of San Francisco (an hour west of us over in Santa Rosa). The drive is fairly easy, but the entire time you’re wondering, ‘Where’s the beach!?’ Oh, it’s there. It’s just too foggy to see. As you pass through Inverness Park, the roads get rougher. (This is where we discovered we needed new shocks on the car.)

Point Reyes day trip

Hiking

We missed the alert on the National Park Service website that said that the Lighthouse was being renovated. We couldn’t get near it! I was so bummed. The restorations will be taking place from August to October, 2018. However, we did park at the Lighthouse parking lot and explore a few small trails.

I was blown away by the beauty. Truly. For the first time since we returned from Europe, I had one of those, ‘Wow…’ moments. Point Reyes really took my breath away.

North Sanfran Point Reyes

Point Reyes beaches

Weather

The Northern California coast has unpredictable weather (says the girl who has lived here two months). All two times we’ve visited the coast the weather has gone from breezy and chilly (multiple clothing layers required) to sunny and comfortable. We packed for both possibilities and I finally found a use for my hooded sweater dress.

Point Reyes hiking

Drake's Beach

The one year mark

Point Reyes was exactly what I needed on this particular day. It was the one year anniversary of my mom’s passing (read more about that here). I didn’t know how to spend the day. My mom and I loved to shop together, but a crowded mall was the last place I wanted to be.

My husband Michael and I decided on Point Reyes because we wanted time alone together to reflect on my mother’s life and our past year without her. It felt like the scenery was mirroring our emotions, perfectly setting the stage to grieve and say goodbye and good riddance to a painful 12 months.

Let me tell you something about the one year mark of a loved one’s passing: day 365 feels no different than day 364. I had been building it up for a year like it would be the second hardest day of my life. Truth is, it just reminded me of how far I’ve come, and how missing her will never go away.

Point Reyes

The beach

After we explored the area near the Lighthouse, we went to Drake’s Beach. The water was refreshingly cold and totally unswimable. But the beach was long and flat, perfect for a peaceful walk. We saw a handful of seals out in the water — it was my first time seeing seals in the wild! They look like little water cats and I immediately fell in love.

Point Reyes swimming

Point Reyes day trip

I adored Point Reyes and I can’t wait to explore it some more. Next time I’ll be sure to check out Cowgirl Creamery and the Cypress Tunnel. I was so bummed to have missed them on my first visit!

By the way, my husband and I are gonna bring back kiting. Ya know, the act of flying a kite? No one kites anymore. So we’re bringing it back. Join us if you dare.

Thanks for reading,

Emma

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It’s Been Six Months Since My Mom Passed Away

I’m not going to sugar-coat this. The first six months have been difficult.

I lost my 61-year-old mother unexpectedly when I was 25-years-old. My mom had no prior illnesses. She was fine one moment, and gone the next. I had no reason to expect that she would pass away in her home that evening. If I had, I would have stayed with her instead of driving back to my home in Denver. That’s a decision I will regret for the rest of my life.

Grief is unique for each person. They say that people who have lost a loved one grieve at different paces. This was true for my immediate family. But here’s something I learned: there’s no correct way to grieve as long as you don’t get stuck in one stage for months on end. 

If you’re reading this because you lost someone important to you and you want to know what the first 6 months feels like, you’re in the right place. Please keep in mind that this is just what it looked like for me. I’m no expert, I just want you to know that someone else out there gets it. You’re not alone.

Stages Of Grief

The stages of grief are justifications for your feelings. They tell you that what you are experiencing is normal. For those who aren’t familiar with the 5 stages of grief by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, they are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I have been through all stages, in random order, over and over again. I’ve felt numb from denial, thinking there’s no way this is real, it must be a dream. I’ve felt angry with myself, with my mom’s doctor, with God. I’ve gone through the “if onlys” of bargaining,  thinking, ‘I should have saved her. I should have been there. If only I stayed at her house one more hour.’ Depression comes and goes and just when I think I’ve hit some form of acceptance, I’m thrown back to anger. 

Writing in a journal helped me through the first 6 months. I would write what stage I was in before letting it all out on paper. My journal is filled with questions like, ‘Why her? Why now? How did this happen? Why weren’t there warning signs?’ During my time on earth I will never have the answers to all of my questions. But guess what? That’s okay. I am learning how to deal with this and how to be comfortable with the unknowns. God has a plan. I am learning to trust His plan.

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Talking About My Mom

Our society doesn’t talk about grief (especially those in the 20-30 age bracket). Occasionally I’ll open up and reminisce about my mom to a friend. At a recent work event I shared how my mom used to forget a word or movie title mid-sentence, we could always read each other’s minds so she would turn to me and ask, “Emma, what’s that movie with the red-headed twins who switch places?”

“The Day After Tomorrow?”

She’d laugh hysterically, wiping tears from her eyes, “NO! You know what I mean! The one with the Lohan girl!”

“Freaky Friday?”

“EMMA!”

My colleagues laughed at my story, giving me this pained look — a smile with sympathetic eyes. That look drives me crazy now, but their hearts are in the right place. I never mind talking about my mom. If I could, I’d tell someone something I love about her every. single. day.

When Will I Be Happy Again?

The first moment I truly felt awake was my husband’s birthday party early December, four months after my mom passed away. I was surrounded by friends, singing Karaoke at a dive bar, and I thought to myself, ‘Wow, I’m not faking happiness, I’m actually having fun.’ Before that night, I had to remind myself to be in the moment and not think, ‘I miss my mom, I miss my mom,’ every second. 

Before December, I was terrified I’d never feel 100% again. I thought I’d always have this sharp pain in my chest and this lump in my throat. I was thrilled to discover that I would once again have great days that reminded me that life is worth living.

Loss Of Interest

To be very honest, I lost almost all interest in my career. I questioned if I should quit and take time for myself. I also thought about quitting my blog. ‘Nothing else matters,’ I thought, ‘Why aren’t we outside living? Why are we stuck inside creating pointless content?’ Harsh, but eye opening.

I also lost interest in spending time with my friends. All I wanted was to be with my family. When I was with friends or colleagues, I was really only 50% there. I couldn’t wait to get home, change into sweats, and stare at the wall.

Slowly, my interests returned. I still have little to no patience for workplace drama and feel angry when my work conflicts with time I should be spending with my family. At 6 months, my interest is back but my perception has been altered.

Grief Groups Are Uncomfortable, And Helpful

I’ve gone through several counseling sessions since my mother passed and haven’t found them to be extraordinarily helpful, to be honest. Everyone handles counseling differently, and I still would recommend at least one session after a loved one passes away.

I also attended GriefShare at a local church for several weeks after my mom’s passing. (GriefShare is a religious workshop that helps people work through their stages of grief through scripture). The two hour sessions took place every Wednesday and started with a 45 minute GriefShare video and followed with a group discussion. I will never forget my first night at GriefShare. I was the youngest by two decades, easily. I was the only one grieving a parent, the others were grieving a spouse. I shared my story and balled my eyes out in front of complete strangers. I finished my story with, “My goal is to eventually talk about my mom without breaking down like this.” I never reached that goal. I cried every time I attended GriefShare.

The group helped me talk about my grief process and it felt good to be around people who were also grieving. It was one of the best things I did for myself immediately following my mom’s death.

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Grief Comes In Waves

About every other month I have a massive breakdown and scream, ‘Why!?’ I sit outside and look at the stars with tears running down my cheeks. These breakdowns are a small part of my grief, but I am left exhausted every time.

Grief comes and goes. Most days are fine, most days are good at this point, actually! But the big breakdowns are still there and I find myself repeating the same questions I asked myself the day my mom passed.

My breakdowns come with warning. A few days before I find myself looking at photos of my mom and wishing I could give her a call. I start snapping at people more often and am easily upset. I warn my husband, “I think a breakdown is coming…” He understands and he listens.

Vivid Dreams

I have yet to find another person who has vivid, realistic dreams about their deceased loved one.

Since my mom’s passing I’ve had four dreams about her. In my dreams, we are hanging out, talking, laughing, and we always acknowledge the fact that she has passed away. I tell her I miss her, she rolls her eyes and says, “Ugh. Don’t.” I ask her why she passed away so young and she says, “Stop focusing on what you can’t control. Just enjoy your time with me here, right now.”

The dreams are beautiful. My mom looks so happy! She’s talking to me just as she would if she was on earth. I mentioned my dreams to my GriefShare group and many were brought to tears (not unusual in a group of sad adults). Several believe that my mom is talking to me from heaven. I’ve always had vivid dreams, my mom knew this, maybe my mom visits me because she knows it brings me comfort.

 

I’m not an expert on grief and grieving. I’m 6-months in and still feel like I’m drowning. However, over the past few months I have heard countless stories from people who have lost someone. Their stories helped me. My hope is that hearing my story and my journey through grief will help one person realize that they too can get through this, even though it sucks. As us grievers say, “Welcome to the club that nobody wanted to join.”

I’m here for you. If you want to talk privately, message me here.

Here are a couple of other posts that may be helpful:

5 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Mom

The Story Behind The Phone Call That Changed My Life

What To Say To Someone Who Has Lost A Loved One

A Gloomy Day at Point Reyes

12 Ways to Ease the Pain of Grief

Thanks for reading,

Emma

Loss of a loved one

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What To Say To Someone Who Has Lost A Loved One

Saying something is better than saying nothing.

When someone you care about loses their friend or family member, it can be difficult to know what to say. You want to be supportive, but talking about death is uncomfortable. You don’t want to upset them, or worse, offend them.

After the loss of my grandmother and mother August, 2017, I noticed that people felt awkward around me. Very few have ever brought up my losses in person. My best guess is that they didn’t want to upset me if I seemed to be in a good mood. The truth is, I am always thinking about my recent losses. I often describe it as an invisible open wound. Bringing it up feels a lot like offering me a Band-Aid. While it won’t stop the bleeding, it may help contain it.

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If you only take one thing away from this post, let it be this: someone who is grieving just needs to hear that you care. Say something. Never say nothing.

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For me, the greatest thing to hear was memories of my mom. It was so comforting to hear how she helped others. For those that didn’t know my mom well, it was nice to hear that they were thinking of me and praying for me.

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Don’t worry if you’ve made one of the comments above to someone who is grieving. It can be very hard to know what to say and your friend knows that your heart is in the right place, even if your words weren’t perfect.

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Those first few weeks were the hardest. I struggled when people told me about their prior loses and compared them to mine. ‘Your loss is nothing like mine,’ I selfishly thought, ‘I lost my grandma and mom within 11 days of each other. There’s no way you can relate.’ Now, I find comfort in hearing stories from those that have lost someone. It’s like we’re all in a very sad club.

For the record, “How are you holding up?” is a fine question in a deeper conversation, but starting with, “How’s it going?” or similar is an impossible question for me to answer in regards to my recent losses. My knee-jerk reaction is, “Umm…not well?” Instead, try a more direct question like, “How is your family handling this recent tragedy?”

It’s difficult to know how to offer your condolences. Many of my friends offered their condolences over social media, a few sent text messages, a handful sent sympathy cards, a couple called or said something in person, some said nothing.

Below are some ways to let the grieving person know that you care, ranked from the best, most helpful way, to what you should do at the very least. I appreciated every single note of condolences I received. I saved everything that was sent to me regarding the loss of my mom and I go back and read them when I’m feeling alone. Once again, just say something! Even if it’s just a note on Facebook that says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

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After a few months things may appear to be back to normal, but your friend is still grieving and will be for years to come. They need to know that you still care, and by checking in you are showing that their loss is still on your mind, too. Here are a few simple ways to check in.

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It is also worth noting that everyone grieves differently. When in doubt, ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend should be honest with you. Remember, they’re dealing with a wide range of emotions and may feel like talking about it one day and the next day they may not.

Occasionally, someone will take me off guard and offer their condolences in front of a group of people, in those moments I am doing my best not to cry and wish they would have pulled me aside for a private conversation. When I am put on the spot to talk about my grief I am more likely to give surface level answers to maintain my composure, but when I’m talking to someone one on one I am more likely to open up.

Almost everyone will experience the loss of a loved one at some point in their life. Understanding how to be supportive in these situations is an invaluable skill to have.

Thanks for reading,

Emma

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5 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Mom

On August 13th, 2017 I lost my best friend. She passed away unexpectedly and I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. If I could have another day with my mom, this is what I’d tell her: 

You are my best friend

We loved to shop together, didn’t we? We would hit up all of the sales and use every coupon in your purse. “We did good today,” you’d say as you threw our bags in the trunk. We’d get home and do a fashion show, making the hallway our runway. We would ask Dad for his opinion, he’d nod and say, “Nice,” for every item. You’d roll your eyes and shrug. We shopped for us, not for our men. When I was having a bad day we’d go to the mall and try on hats. You always said hats weren’t your thing because you had, “sticky-outty ears, just like Grandpa.” I quickly realized you were just letting me wear the cute ones while you put on the goofy ones. You would do anything to cheer me up.

You are beautiful

Inside and out. I was in 1st grade, getting ready for picture day, and I told Dad that I was self-conscious of the gap between my teeth. I was practicing my best closed-mouth smile in the mirror when Dad tickled me and said, “You are your most beautiful self when you laugh.” Mom, when you laughed you lit up the entire room. I did everything I could to make you laugh and smile because that alone made my day.

Thank you

As the youngest child, I must’ve asked you a million times to play barbies or go to the park with me and not once did you say no. When we were at the pool I’d ask you to play Mud Princess and Pretty Pony, a game I had made up. You’d play along, asking me if we should stop and pick up magical crystals on our way to the deep end, as if it were a completed normal errand. You joined me in my imaginary world and didn’t break out of it until I was done playing.

I love you

I’ll always remember that line from the book, Love You Forever by Robert N. Munsch that went “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.” Mom, you took care of me, my sisters and about five dozen other children during your lifetime and you loved each one of us immensely. As a youngest child you’d think I’d be jealous of all of these kids snagging your attention but you made each one of us feel as though we were the favorite. I will love you forever, Mom.

I miss you

Yesterday was hard, today is hard and tomorrow will be hard. I will continue to imagine that you are by my side, holding my hand as I walk through life. I see you in the leaves falling from the trees. I hear you in praise hymns. I even smell you in spray butter, because you once sprayed it the wrong way, directly in my face, during dinner. I couldn’t stay mad at you, we laughed until we cried. It seems as though everything reminds me of you but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Each little thing reminds me of how full our relationship was and how we took advantage of every minute of life we had together.

I will never understand why you were taken from me so early, but I feel comfort in knowing that you are in heaven, no longer in pain, dancing, singing and smiling down at me.