“Carrying You with Me”

Today, I don’t lay flowers on a stone.

I lay them right here—over the garden of my own heart.

I say your name aloud,

Let it rise like a prayer,

Like a thread of light reaching across unseen places.

I smile at the memory that visits unannounced—

The way your hands moved,

The sound of your laughter in the kitchen,

The quiet strength you wore like a second skin.

And when the ache comes—as it always does—

I place my hand on my chest and whisper,

I love you. I haven’t forgotten. I am still carrying you with me.

I walk in the world with the kindness you taught me,

I stand taller in the moments you would have told me,

“You’re stronger than you think.”

And on days like today,

I do the bravest thing I can—

I live fully. I love deeply.

And in that…

I know you are here.

We wish them love by living the love they gave us.

By speaking their names out loud.

By smiling at a memory that suddenly visits.

By lighting a candle or placing flowers where their hands once rested.

By passing on a kindness they would have offered.

By living in a way that would make them proud, free, and joyful to see.

And sometimes, by simply closing our eyes, placing a hand on our heart, and whispering,

“I love you. I haven’t forgotten. I’m still carrying you with me.”

“One More Mother’s Day Reflection—For Those We Carry and Those Who Carried Us”

Today, we pause.

For the mothers who held us close,

For the ones we long for,

For the women who mothered without title,

And for the mothering we offer to ourselves.

Whether your heart feels full or fractured,

Whether you are celebrating, grieving, or simply breathing through the day—

May you know this:

Love leaves a thread that time cannot break.

It lives in your heartbeat,

In the way you show up for others,

And in the quiet ways you’ve learned to hold yourself.

Journal Prompts for Gentle Reflection:

What is one memory of my mother—or a mothering figure—that still echoes in my life today? In what ways have I mothered myself through hard seasons? If I could say one thing to the mother I miss (or the mother I never had), what would it be? What does the word “mother” mean to me today? How has that changed over time? What legacy of love or strength do I carry forward from the mothers before me?

When you’re ready, write freely.

Light a candle. Whisper their name. And if nothing comes but tears,

know that this, too, is a prayer.

Sorry this is a bit late. It was a difficult day. But so glad to remember the great love we had and always will! Much love to all you Momma’s! 💗