In loving memory of Pat, on her birthday – September 13
It’s the second birthday we’ve spent without you, and it feels so real. Too real.
It hits me in the everyday moments—when the kids reach milestones and I instinctively reach for the phone, knowing you’d be just as excited as me. Probably more.
It hits me when me and Desmond are trying to make a decision and I can almost hear you chime in with your two cents—opinionated as ever—then shrug and say, “Well dude, it’s up to you,” or your classic, “You like it, I love it.”
You had a way of making everything feel like it mattered, because we mattered to you. That’s what I miss the most.
I still think about your funeral. About the service. About how I tried so hard to make it right—to honor you, to hold it all together, to give you what you deserved.
But if I’m honest? I still carry guilt.
It didn’t feel grand enough. It didn’t feel like enough.
Not for someone like you. Not for a woman who gave so much of herself, so freely, so fiercely, to her family.
I did everything I knew to do. I made the calls. I coordinated. I smiled when it hurt. I showed up when I didn’t have much left to give. I pushed through—with you in mind, every step.
But I still wish there had been more. More time. More help. More space to grieve and celebrate all at once.
Maybe that’s the hardest part of grief. The wondering if we did enough. The reliving of moments. The invisible weight of “what if.”
But what I do know—what I hold onto—is that you knew I loved you.
Even in our differences, there was always love.
And if love could be measured in effort, in presence, in the way your memory still lingers in the corners of our lives… then I hope you’d know: you were celebrated, even in the quiet. Even in the chaos. Even when I was too tired to speak it aloud.
I miss you.
We miss you.
Your son still carries you with him.
Your grandbabies still hear your name and know it means love.
And I still find myself wishing I could call you, just to hear you say something only you would say.
Isaiah 25:8 NIV
“he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove his people’s disgrace from all the earth. The LORD has spoken.”
Closing Prayer
God, thank You for the gift of her life. Even in this sorrow, help me to rest in the truth that You see every unseen effort, every tear, every tender remembrance. Help me let go of the guilt and hold onto the love. May her memory continue to shape us—in gentleness, in strength, in grace. Amen.
Leave a Reply