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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 about.

Today, something surfaced in my memory. Call me crazy, but as I heal, I’m starting to remember things you told me when I was a child. I remember, Momma. I remember your first magical Christmas with your daddy, Allan Trapp. You described it as perfect—the best Christmas you ever had. You told me how happy you were to finally have a real dad, someone who rescued you and your siblings. Life was better, even if still tough. You spared me the hardest stories, but I’m grateful you shared that joy.

I also remember you telling me that Grandma knew I was going to be a very special girl, and she was determined to stick around to meet me. That she did. What she didn’t know was that for the first 30 years of my life, I’d be the most colorful, dramatic, enthusiastic trainwreck of a daughter before I started figuring things out. Messy, yes—but better late than never.

I think I’ve finally found my place in this family. I promise to do my very best. I’ll keep these memories alive. They won’t be forgotten. No one will forget the good you instilled. I will do right by you—always and forever.

xoxoxo


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