"I lived a million miles of memories on that road."

I didn't realize it until recently, on a kind of dreary day that looked like a tropical day in Pennsylvania, just how much I miss our walks.

We logged a lot of miles together, you and me. I can't believe I never stopped to realize just how special they were, and that even though your healthy little body seemed like it would be around forever, those walks would be fleeting. The irony of it is that so many of those walks involved you doing just that--appreciating that moment in time. Looking up at the sky and breathing in the air with your eyes closed and a grin on your face, perfectly content with your life and appreciative of all the blessings you were handed along the way.

You taught me a lot of things in our 28 years together, but one I keep coming back to recently is how to truly appreciate life and all the little things that come with it.

Sometimes, when I'm with my little hurricane, laughing one of those deep belly laughs because of something she says or does, I can just envision the smile that used to creep across your face when you'd look at me with pride-filled eyes and tell me how happy you were when you could watch me be happy. The same smile that would appear when you were playing "this little piggy" until I was a full-grown adult and right up until the stupid cancer made you too tired to form sentences, or listening to my stories about my Florida adventures and all the people who made it a home for me, or throwing marshmallows into my mouth from across the living room.

You always had a way of looking at me like I could do no wrong, and like you truly believed with all your heart that I was the best thing since sliced raisin bread, toasted and slathered with butter before being drowned in cinnamon and sugar. You appreciated all the little quirks and every little element about us that fused together to make us who we are. You never once made us feel like any single quality was unlovable, including those that most people would find (and do find) less than charming.

The little moments with people, like those that involved the 3 of us just being together at whatever residence you were inhabiting at the time, seemed to be the moments that mattered most to you. No matter how much you felt like your world was falling apart around you on any given day when life wasn't quite going the way you had hoped or planned, you always seemed to be able to pick out the pieces that were still held together and appreciate them.

I must admit, I'm still learning to be more like you in that way. There are still days that I can almost see that bright smile and smell your perfume and feel your warm hugs holding me tight. There are still times when all I can see is how unfair it is that you're not here with us anymore and I have to rely on those sweet,

Irreplaceable memories. There are still days when I feel like your hugs and your love are the only things that can save me. There are still moments when I miss the old me, because there is a very clear distinction between who I was before losing you (every little piece, day by day) and who I am now. But since life doesn't always give us the options we want, I think maybe you're sending me your love through other people. Maybe they are the people who will create new pieces to fit into some of the holes left behind from the parts of me that went with you the day you had to leave this world. Like my baby hurricane and her incredible family, and like Lola, who still gives me regular doses of honest motherly advice, including but not limited to "use your manners" and "I should beat your ass right now." 

I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and I won't ever stop walking forward, and I'll try my best to do it with a smile on my face because I know you're always right next to me in spirit. I may not be able to see you anymore, but you are never far from my mind and you are always, always, always in my heart.

Sometimes, words just don't work...

I remember when my friend's father passed away, when your body was still here with us but other pieces of you had already left. I remember telling him that I didn't know what to say or do for him, and that words probably didn't make much of a difference at that point. 

And then I remember telling the first person who had lost someone after we lost you that the right words just didn't exist, only that time, I knew from experience. 

We had so much support from so many people after you passed away, and I don't want to discredit that for one second. But when it comes to finding the right thing to say in response to the loss of someone you love more than life, no words will ever suffice or make it hurt any less.

Two people who I love very much have lost someone profoundly special to them this week. And there is a lump forming in my throat as I type this and my body still goes numb as I think about it. Because I've experienced a great loss, so I can relate to that part. But as I've mentioned before, every loss is so very different, because every soul is so very different. So, as much as I can relate to some pieces, I also am well aware that I have no idea what it's like to lose the people they have lost.

Because when you left us, people's hearts broke in different ways and cracked in different places. Neal and I were the only two people who had the pleasure of being raised by you, and we were the only two people who lost our mom that day. But I remember looking at Mary Ann and at Aunt Threse and Aunt Lirda and Uncle Lex and wondering what they must be feeling, because they have so many more years of memories with you. Your siblings watched you transform from a kid, to a teen, to a young adult, and eventually to a mom and the only woman Neal and I had ever known. They were your partners in crime, and they were the people who knew WHY you were the person we all knew and love.

Your little girl who could outflare your nostrils any day and who nailed the art of throwing mini marshmallows into your big ol' mouth had a completely different relationship with you than your baby boy whose head was the size of a watermelon but you'd still be seen in public with at Avril Lavigne concerts and airports when you took him to leave for one unique excursion to the next. But those memories get to stay with us forever, and nobody else gets to keep them but me and watermelon head.

To the people who lost someone this week: I am so sorry. I am so sorry that there are pieces of each of your situations that I can so relate to, and pieces that I will never be able to understand, because they are only yours.

You are both in my thoughts and prayers, as well as the families and friends of those you loved so much.