Skip to main content

For you, Momma

 I’ve tried so many times to figure out how to put her into words—my mom. But parts of her live in me in ways words can’t always reach.

Not all memories come clearly. Trauma fogs things. But love? That breaks through. Hers for me. Mine for her.

She had a huge heart—always helping people. Legal forms, hospital rides, late-night talks—she showed up. Even if I didn’t understand why. Heck, I often didn’t. I even resented it, wondering why others got her support before I did. Selfish? Probably. Human? Definitely.

Now, I get it. And while I can’t tell her that—I can live it. Every day, I try to do what she did. And do the parts she never got the chance to.

Funny how I catch myself repeating her old favorite: “Do as I say, not as I do.” I use it with my kids now. Legacy’s strange like that.

One thing she never did? She never called me a failure. Not even when I was drowning in addiction. She just quietly stood by, praying I’d surface.

She was diagnosed with cancer during my rock bottom. Somehow, I got sober before she passed. We had two months. Two sacred, healing months. Sleepovers. Hot chocolate. Movie nights. Me taking care of her. She seeing me clean.

On Christmas Eve, we had our final Facetime. I cried. She cried. I told her:

“Mom, I love you. I’m sorry. You can go be with Ellie Rose now. I’ll be okay.”

Then I sang—something I rarely did. Dust in the Wind. Her song. Ellie’s song. Our goodbye.

And I said: “It’s okay Momma… I’m your daughter.”

Those words hit differently now.

After she passed, I read her unsent messages to me. I saw her hopes. Her faith. Her belief. And I’ve grown into the woman she knew I could be.

Better late than never.

Now, I live like she’s watching. Cheering me on. I carry her voice in mine.

I am someone she would be proud of today.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When The Fog Lifted--The Restaurant That Raised Me

For most of my life, I couldn’t quite figure out where “home” was supposed to be. Sure, I had a roof and family and love. I created a home with my husband and kids that fills me with warmth and gratitude daily. But deep inside, I felt like something was still missing—some anchor, some center, some quiet place that whispered, you belong here . And for years, I didn’t feel settled enough— safe enough—to let myself find it. Then one morning, while doing my usual makeup routine for the job I’ve bounced back to more times than I can count, something just clicked. Like one of those moments in recovery, when suddenly everything makes sense—not because life got easier, but because you got stronger . Your heart starts connecting the dots you didn’t even know you were drawing. New China is my home. It hit me like a ton of bricks—but soft ones, the kind you feel in your chest instead of your head. This restaurant has been the one reliable constant through nearly every chapter of my adult li...
Post a Comment
Read more

Christmas Memories, RA Flares, and the Promise I Made

Keep Going: For Mom Funny thing about blogging—life explodes with chaos, and the moment I sit down to write, my hands decide to rebel. First time ever, I’m struggling to type thanks to an RA flare. Perfect timing, right? But I’m powering through, because I can, and I will. Plus, I’ve been listening to these motivational podcasts, and the guy in my ear is literally telling me not to quit right now. “Keep going,” he says. And then—bam—an ad. Story of my life. But he’s back, and I’m soaking it all in. This might just be my new thing. Anyway, back to blogging. A lot has happened, though nothing I’d call remarkable. One day I’ll spill all the nitty gritty of my crazy, unfiltered life, but today’s post is for Mom. We’re coming up on five years since you left us, and it hasn’t gotten easier. My heart aches for you just as much as it did the morning I got that phone call—Christmas Eve, 6:46 a.m.—telling me you were gone. That day will always be a blur. But that’s not what I’m here to write ...
Post a Comment
Read more

"When Grief Shattered Me: The Lessons My Mom Left Behind"

  Just some bullet points of my journey to "Grabbing life by the balls and living!" Losing my mom wasn’t just losing a parent—it was losing the anchor in my storm. It felt like my world fell apart, piece by piece, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever find solid ground again. I wasn’t just drowning in grief—I was pouring it into a glass, one sip at a time, hoping it would wash away the pain. Spoiler alert: It didn’t.  When she was diagnosed with cancer, I thought I had time. Time to prepare, time to say everything I wanted to say. But time is cruel, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone, taking parts of me with her I didn’t know how to live without.  I was drowning in the weight of motherhood, grief, and pain. I didn’t know how to balance it all—being a mom, carrying the loss of my own, and fighting a body that felt like it was turning against me. Some nights, I thought I was failing my kids just as much as I was failing myself. Alcohol became my escape. Then my prison. One ...
Post a Comment
Read more