My mother passed away suddenly in May 2023, just two months before her 80th birthday. My siblings and I had been planning a celebration for her, imagining how much joy she would feel surrounded by the people who loved her most. Instead, we were left with profound sorrow, the kind that follows when someone you were deeply connected to leaves before you’re ready to let go.
Puerto Rico was her home, and I traveled there every year to be with her. As her health declined over recent months, I tried to spend as much time by her side as possible. She had lived with chronic COPD for five years, but it was a massive stroke that ultimately took her. Even as I write this, tears fall as I struggle to accept that this is now part of my reality.
Seeing her lying there, still and peaceful as though she might simply wake up, made the grief feel even heavier. In those moments, I silently wished she would open her eyes and stay with us a little longer. Watching her lowered into her final resting place, knowing I would never again hear her voice, was a pain I still can’t fully describe.
On my last day before returning to Colorado, I visited her gravesite one final time. Standing there, I felt as though I was not only saying goodbye to my mother, but also to a part of my childhood. That farewell was one of the hardest moments of my life.
I know time will eventually soften this grief, and I will be able to hold our memories with more tenderness than pain. What will always remain difficult is knowing I wasn’t with her in her final moments.
Living without those we love is never easy. What brings me comfort is imagining her free from pain, perhaps reunited with my father, the man she deeply loved and missed for the 15 years she lived without him.
Maybe someday, I’ll see her again. Until then, I carry the lessons, love, and strength she passed on to me. She shaped who I am, and for as long as I live, I will honor her memory.
Rest peacefully, Mom. You deserve nothing less.