Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom
Birthdays used to mean celebrating you together. Now they mean celebrating you through memories. Today, I’m thinking about all the moments that made you such an incredible mom, best friend, and the person I still miss every single day.
Mom, you were my:
Best Friend.
Biggest Cheerleader.
Partner in Crime.
You were my go-to person.
For everything.
Gossip? You heard it first.
Big news? You were already on the phone.
Bad day? You knew before I said a word.
Crazy plan? You said, “Let’s do it.”
Mom-daughter days were my favorite days.
No schedule, no rush — just us.
We’d hit the stores “just to look,” then walk out five hours later with arms full of bags, still laughing over things no one else would find funny — but we did.
There was no one I loved shopping with more.
It wasn’t about what we bought — it was about the time together, the way we could get lost in it for hours.
Saturdays were for brunch.
Bloody Mary’s or mimosas, long conversations, and a table full of laughs.
We didn’t even need a reason — just being together was enough.
You made every day feel like a celebration.
You were fun.
You were full of life.
You were the kind of mom people wished they had — and the kind of friend I’ll never find again.
I miss your laugh.
Your texts with too many emojis.
The way you’d say, “Just get it — life’s short.”
The way you knew when I needed you, even if I didn’t say a word.
And doing life without you?
It’s like walking with one shoe missing.
Like something important is always just… not there.
You were the one who made everything better.
And no one will ever take your place.
Ever.
Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom.
I hope somehow, somewhere, you know just how deeply you’re still loved, still celebrated, and still missed every single day. 💔
If these words connected with you, you’ll find many more like them in What Remains. It’s a collection of the writings I’ve shared over the years, bringing together reflections on grief, love, loss, and the connections that continue long after someone is gone.
I hope it brings you comfort, understanding, and the reminder that you’re not alone.
If you’d like to read more, you can find the book here
Available now on Amazon





I’m so sorry, Aimee. 💔