Today, my mom would’ve turned 54. (As in right now when I type this I’m not sure when I will schedule it to post but)
She was born on July 19, 1971. She passed away on November 8, 2021. That was just eight days before I turned 30. I didn’t know how to prepare for the amount of grief this has churned up. I still don’t. And now here we are, in 2025, almost four years later. I still wake up on this day with that ache in my chest. It’s not just this day; it’s many of them. It’s a lot of them, if I’m being honest.
Some years it hits louder than others. This year, it’s the silence that hurts most. The absence. The way I can’t call her. Knowing I can’t tell her anything new. I just spent the week with my sister exploring the towns around Asheville. I know mom would have loved to hear all about our trips. Time keeps moving. Somehow she’s further and further away. Yet, she’s still here with me in all the ways that matter.
My sisters both turned 21 just a few months after she passed away. I don’t think one of us was really ready. Honestly, is anyone ever really ready. Still, she should’ve seen them grow. She should’ve seen me figure some of this out. She should’ve still been part of the story. My mom should be here!
I carry her with me everywhere I go. In my writing. In the way I talk to strangers. How fiercely I protect the people I love. I think she’d be proud of what I’m doing now. Proud of how I keep going even when it’s hard. Proud of the things I’m building. I know she’d be proud of the love I still have to give. She’s here with me when I hike. I feel her with me when I write. She’s present when I don’t know what to do. I know she’s with me, here in all other moments. But it isn’t the same, and I’d trade my dad any day. I’ll never stop saying that.
Today, I’m just letting myself feel it. The love. The grief. The weight. The memory. It’s really stupid I didn’t think about this date before I scheduled my vacation. I would do anything to still be off work!
Check out my links. Best of Poeaxtry 2025. Buy me a coffee?
Happy birthday, Momma. I love you. I miss you. I always will nothing will change that. I still remember your smile and the way you smelled. The laugh I used to make fun of, and all the quirky expressions you used to make (now Jade makes).
Please come see us soon! I hope your doggo baby made it to you. I know you saw we put jewels collar on the bridge in lake Lure.
