10/13/2025
Write it out.
Let the healing find you there.
Twenty years ago today, around 7:45 a.m., I sat by my mother’s side and said goodbye as she took her last breath. I will never forget that moment, how sacred, heartbreaking, and beautiful it was to witness.
I loved her deeply. She was strong, complicated, and full of grace in her own way. Losing her changed me, it broke something open that has never fully closed. There are still days when I wish I could call her, hear her voice, or tell her how much she means to me.
When I became a mother myself, I carried both the love and the lessons, the fear of repeating our complexities, and the hope of healing them. Over time, I’ve come to see how every layer, the good and the hard, shaped me into the woman and mother I am today.
My mom believed in the healing power of journaling, of writing to make sense of things, to release them, to grow. She was right. Writing has carried me through every season since, helping me find peace in loss, grace in the mess, and beauty in the healing.
I miss her every day. But I carry her in everything I do, from the way I care for others, to the way I see beauty in the broken and grace in the mending.
I love you, Mom. Always.
