October 30, 2012. That’s the day my mom lost her battle with cancer. 12 years to the day.

I’ve thought about her almost every day since.

A lot has changed from then to now, with my life and how I think about her death.

Some things are still the same. Like the sadness and her absence. You never really get over losing those you love. You just learn how to keep moving forward.

That’s what life does—it moves forward. Whether you like it or not, loss and all.

But this isn’t about what I lost. No, it’s about what I found helps lighten the load. What I gained from the time I had with my mom.

This is about her and what she taught me.

~

Mom, you showed me what kindness is, what it means. You were never rude, mean, or spiteful. You were gentle, pure of heart. 

You were innocent and taught me to be optimistic. You saw the good in others, their potential—my potential. Because you believed in people, in second chances, in everything.

You taught me to enjoy life, believing light is stronger than darkness. Even in an unfair world. 

I guess that’s why you were so silly, always quick to laugh and let loose your quirks. I guess that’s why you loved to play games and have fun. Why you made the most of what you had with the time you had.

You taught me about acceptance. But you also taught me to never give up. Because you were content with your lot yet you wanted the world for me.

You encouraged me to reach for the stars but be thankful for the grass beneath my feet. To keep growing but not to forget my blue-collar roots. To be humble.

You taught me not to take anything for granted, not to take anyone for granted. To appreciate every breath you take and every hand you shake. Because nothing in life is guaranteed. Life isn’t guaranteed.

You pushed me to follow my passions. Because you didn’t. And you didn’t want me to live with those regrets. 

You saw talents in me and tried your best to cultivate them—to nurture belief in myself. It’s why I’m a writer, why I continue to learn and grow as a person and a professional.

You taught me about love and compassion and fear. Because you cared more for your family than you did yourself. 

You were devoted to your husband and your children, despite our faults. You loved your sisters and brother. You loved your parents. And you loved your friends. Just like I love my friends—those you treated like family.

You showed me how to find joy in the mundane. Because you loved to listen to music when you cleaned. (Some of my fondest memories are flipping records while you swept the floor.)

You loved to sing and dance, too. Even if you didn’t know the words or lost the rhythm. The lesson was not to care about what other people thought. To not be so serious in a so serious world.

What you really taught me was how to live. And how to leave this world

Because you never stopped fighting. You never stopped giving. And you never stopped loving.

I try my best to do the same—for you.

Because I love you. I miss you. And I want to make you proud.