Originally Written July 25, 2026
“I’ll Always Want My Mommy”
I never imagined I would have to learn how to live in a world without my mom.
People tell you that losing a parent is part of life, as though knowing it will happen somehow makes it easier when it does. But nothing prepares you for the moment the person who loved you before anyone else is suddenly gone.
I don’t think we ever stop needing our mothers.
It doesn’t matter if we’re five, twenty-five, or fifty-five. There is always a part of us that still wants to hear their voice, ask their advice, celebrate our victories with them, or crawl into their arms when life becomes too heavy.
I still want my mommy.
Not because I haven’t grown up, but because she was the one place in this world that always felt like home.
She knew me before I knew myself.
She loved every version of me.
She believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.
Loving her never felt like something I had to do.
It was simply who I was.
Caring for her through the hardest years of her life was never a burden. If anything, it was my way of saying thank you for every sacrifice she made for me long before I was old enough to understand them.
If I had been given the choice, I would have stayed by her side forever.
There will always be one more hug I wish I had.
One more conversation I wish we could have.
One more “I love you” I wish I could say.
The hardest part is knowing that I have to keep living while carrying a space inside me that can never truly be filled.
Sometimes I catch my reflection and I see her looking back at me.
The shape of my face.
The familiar expressions.
The little pieces of her that time could never take away.
I used to think we simply looked alike.
Now I realize she left part of herself with me.
She will always be with me, not only in my memories, but in the face I see every morning, in the compassion she taught me, and in the love she gave me so freely that it became part of who I am.
People will remember the years she lived.
I will remember the way she loved.
I will remember the sound of her voice, the comfort of her presence, and the quiet ways she made everything feel a little less frightening simply because she was there.
I don’t know what tomorrow looks like without her.
I only know that I will spend the rest of my life loving her.
Grief is the price I pay for being blessed enough to have called her my mom.
And if love had been enough to keep someone here, she would have stayed forever.
So on the days when the tears come without warning…
On the birthdays…
The holidays…
The ordinary afternoons when I instinctively reach for the phone…
I will let myself miss her.
I will let myself love her.
Because that love did not end when her life did.
It became something I will carry for the rest of mine.
I love you, Mom.
I always will.
And no matter how old I become…
I will always want my mommy.
FRD 2026