Mom!

Mom, this Christmas feels quieter without you. The world keeps moving, traditions carry on, but there’s a gentle ache that settles in my heart when the season arrives. You were always such a big part of what made Christmas feel like home, and even now, your absence is something I carry with me in every prayer and every memory.
I miss the way you loved so freely and so completely. Your care wasn’t loud or showy—it was steady, dependable, and full of warmth. You taught me that love shows up in small ways, in listening, in kindness, and in simply being there. Those lessons didn’t leave when you did. They stayed, woven into who I am.
Some days I still talk to you, Mom. Not out loud where others can hear, but quietly, from the heart. I tell you about the family, about the moments I wish you could see, and about the times I feel tired or unsure. And somehow, even without words, I feel comforted—like you’re still watching over us, still loving us, still close.
Christmas has a way of bringing both joy and tears. It reminds us of what we’ve lost, but also of how deeply we’ve been loved. I believe that love doesn’t end at Heaven’s gates. It stretches beyond this life, carrying warmth, peace, and the promise that we are never truly separated.
If you’re reading this and missing your mom in Heaven too, please know you’re not alone. Many hearts are holding the same quiet longing tonight. And somewhere beyond what we can see, a mother’s love is still reaching down, wrapping us in comfort, and reminding us that love lives forever.