“For the first six months after my mom passed, I felt like a ghost in my own life. I walked through the days numb, waiting for the phone to ring at 10 AM like it always did. The silence was deafening.
I kept asking myself, ‘Who am I without her?’ She was my compass. She was the one who told me I was brave when I felt small, the one who taught me that kindness costs nothing but means everything. Without her voice in my ear, I felt lost.
One afternoon, I was at the grocery store. The woman in front of me was short on cash. She was flustered, trying to put back a carton of milk and a bag of apples while her toddler cried in the cart. The line behind us was sighing, people were checking their watches, and the cashier looked annoyed.
In that moment, I felt a heat rise in my chest. Not anger—but a fierce, protective instinct. I didn’t think; I just acted. I stepped forward, swiped my card, and said, ‘It’s covered. Go home and make that baby a pie.’
The woman looked at me, stunned, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Why would you do that?’
I opened my mouth to speak, but my mother’s words came out. ‘Because we’ve all been there, honey. Just pass it on when you can.’
I walked to my car shaking. That wasn’t just me. That was her.
I sat in the driver’s seat and looked in the rearview mirror. For the first time since the funeral, I didn’t see a grieving daughter. I saw her eyes staring back at me. I saw the set of her jaw.
I realized then that grief isn’t the end of love; it’s just love with nowhere to go. But I did have somewhere to put it. I could put it into the world, just like she did.
Every day I walk this earth, I am proof that she was here. That her love didn’t end, it lives inside of me. And even though she’s gone, I will never forget all the ways she loved me, all the lessons she taught me… because those are the things that made me who I am today.
Thank you, Mom.“
