My mom was the kind of person who didn’t just raise me — she shaped the way I understand love, safety, and home. She was the first place I ever belonged. Her presence made the world feel less heavy, and her voice could steady me even on the worst days.
My mom protected me, taught me, and pushed me to grow, even when I didn’t want to. She noticed the small things about me, the things other people missed. She remembered details I forgot. She believed in the version of me I was still trying to become.
My mom showed love in ways that weren’t always loud — in routines, in sacrifices, in showing up when she was tired, in caring even when she was hurting. She carried more than she ever said out loud.
She was the keeper of our family’s stories, the person whose advice still echoes in my head, the one whose love doesn’t disappear just because she’s gone. Her strength and softness both live in me now.
My mom wasn’t perfect, but she was present. She was real. She was mine. And the way she loved me will keep shaping me for the rest of my life.
I love you woman! With all of my being. Us girls will never forget!
