The Day She Died

The day she died, my world shattered. It felt like the ground beneath me gave way, leaving me suspended in an emptiness I couldn’t describe. I had been bracing myself for this moment, but when it came, nothing about it felt real.

The day she died, I lost more than my mother—I lost my compass. She had always been the one I turned to for everything, from the smallest decisions to the biggest moments of my life. Without her, I felt directionless, like I was floating in a sea of uncertainty.

The day she died, I realized how much of my strength had always come from her. She had fought so hard, through every doctor’s appointment, every treatment, every moment when giving up might have seemed easier. Her strength had carried all of us, even in her weakest moments. When she took her last breath, I wasn’t sure if I could be strong enough for myself.

The day she died, my grief wasn’t just sadness—it was rage, confusion, and heartbreak all at once. It was the silence of a world that felt too loud without her in it. It was the realization that life would keep moving forward, even though I wanted time to stop.

The day she died, I felt the weight of all the things left unsaid. Even though I told her I loved her a thousand times, it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted her to know how much she meant to me, how deeply her love shaped my life, how I would never be the same because of her.

The day she died, I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again. And maybe I won’t. But in the days since, I’ve started to realize she left pieces of herself behind. She’s in my kindness, in my laughter, in the way I care for others. She’s in the memories I cherish and the lessons I carry forward.

The day she died, the world lost her light. But in some ways, her light didn’t go out—it just changed. It’s in me now, and in my siblings, and in everyone who loved her. She’s still here in the love she gave us, the strength she taught us, and the legacy she left behind.

The day she died, I didn’t know how I would go on. But now I see that I carry her with me in every step I take. And though I’ll always wish for one more day, I know she would want me to keep moving forward, to live a life that honors her, to find joy even in the midst of the loss.

Carrying her light forward,

Aimee