12/16/2025
Days of Mourning: 38
It's felt so dense since you've been gone. A heavy felling lingering in there air, as though you're still just here, followed by the weight of the realization of the situation. I find myself still longing for your answers, a full catalog of questions piling up each day as I find myself forgetting the little things you so meticulously made sure were taken care of.
As the early morning hours crept into what would have been my mom's 70th birthday, I watched the minutes tick by as I thought back on memories of my mother. I mostly thought back to days where we'd have something good on for music, usually in the summer when we'd be at the farm, and Mom would groove to the music and snap her fingers as she sipped on a cold beer, carefree as we'd waste away the summer days.
I'll never not be reminded of my mother, her presence still so strong as life continues without her. I know I'll see her in each blossom in the spring, every tiny petal etched with the essence of her loving nature. Each time the snow falls, each drop of rain, every little leaf as it fall to the ground in Autumn. Mom was in everything. Our mother's memory is woven in the constellation we'd pick out as kids, in the stream of wheat field on the way to the family farm, every pony horse we'd wish on as we drove by. I see her in my brothers, my sister, and me, as I look into the mirror and see what is often described as a strong resemblance to my mom.
Happy Birthday Mom ❤️
