Whoever gets there next, to the place above the clouds and the destination some call heaven, please find my mother. You’ll know it’s her because she has a smile that lights even the darkest places and an aura of pure kindness and compassion.  Please, when you get there, find her. Whoever gets there next, please tell her how much I love her. Please tell her…

Her love is noticeable from the very first words of her email. She writes to me with few words but a bold request: “Help her heal. Please, help her.” This is what happens when you love someone so fiercely you can’t bear witnessing their pain and their heartbreak. She is writing out of both desperation and hope.  This woman is a stranger to me but…

She writes and asks, “When will I stop crying? Will I cry forever?” Immediately I wish I could respond with the answer she’s looking for, the one that she’s hoping I’ll provide. The one that would say, “Of course you’ll stop crying. Of course you won’t cry forever.” But those statements would be lies. They would hold zero truth and would be completely inaccurate of…

I’m angry but I’m not sure who or what I’m angry at. Grief brought a lot of emotions and anger was one that surprised me the most. It’s fierce and it’s mighty but I’m not sure who exactly it should be directed towards.  Am I angry at God? For not giving my mother more time. For taking an immensely faithful woman too soon— before gray…