To Mom

As kids, the world is full of incredible discoveries. You learn that the sky is blue because of sunlight scattering, that ice melts into water, and that your mom’s hugs can fix just about anything. You learn what family means, and that love—real, unconditional love—is something you feel in your bones.

But as you grow older, those moments of wonder get further apart. You learn how to navigate through life—balancing a job, paying taxes, understanding the little things that make adulthood both rewarding and exhausting. Eventually, life starts feeling predictable. At least, until something happens that changes everything.

For me, that moment came on November 17th.

Mom, Linda, was the heart of our family, and if I’ve ever been told I’m anything like her, I consider that the highest compliment. People would say, “You’re so much like your mother,” and my first response would always be to laugh it off with a joke about how I’m a slightly better cook or how my plants last longer than hers ever did. But the truth is, being compared to her was something I cherished, because she was an incredible woman—strong, funny, and full of life.

Mom had a special talent for making any situation feel lighter. We’d joke our way through the hardest times because, as she taught me, laughter could take the edge off anything. I see now that it was her way of protecting us. Even when things were tough, she always had a joke ready, a clever one-liner that turned everything around. And somehow, she passed that on to me, whether I wanted it or not.

One thing we never saw eye to eye on was her obsession with “The Bachelor.” I swear, no one could convince her that it wasn’t the pinnacle of television. We’d bicker back and forth about how I couldn’t stand it, while she defended it like it was her life’s passion. Eventually, Dad would intervene and tell us to settle down, reminding us that the TV remote didn’t care who won the argument.

Mom’s greatest gift, though, was her ability to make people laugh, often at her own expense. Every family gathering, especially Thanksgiving, was an event—mainly because of her mishaps in the kitchen. She’d accidentally burn the dinner rolls, and we’d all tease her about it, but she never minded. In fact, I think she loved being in on the joke. I know she’d be smiling right now, knowing that we’re all thinking of those chaotic Thanksgivings, where the smoke alarm was just part of the evening.

When I first heard the news about Mom, my mind immediately went to jokes. I guess that’s how I’ve always dealt with bad news—like she did. If there’s one thing she would’ve wanted, it’s for us to be here today, finding ways to laugh through the tears. So, here I am, doing what she would have wanted: trying to make this moment a little lighter.

Now, let me tell you a secret: Mom had this long-running joke that I’d have to pick out her nursing home someday. But the truth is, she never needed one. She was as sharp and independent as they come. And though I teased her about it constantly, I’m really just glad she never had to be in one of those places. If anything, she was the one who should have been running the show.

When she wasn’t cracking jokes, she was the most loving grandmother to her grandkids, Lucas and Emma. They adored her, and it wasn’t because she spoiled them with treats (though she definitely did). It was because she had a way of making them feel like the most important people in the world. I’ll miss the way they’d run into her arms, excited to tell her about their latest adventures.

If there’s anything Mom loved as much as her family, it was her garden. She wasn’t always great with plants—let’s be honest, she accidentally killed more than a few—but when she got it right, she was unstoppable. Her roses were her pride and joy, and she’d spend hours pruning them, talking to them like they were her little babies. I used to tease her about it, but now I look back and think maybe she was onto something. After all, her garden was a reflection of the care she poured into everything she did.

Before I wrap this up, there are a few things I always wanted to say in front of her but never got around to:

Mom, not all wine tastes the same.

I never understood your obsession with that one show, but I loved watching it with you anyway.

And no, not all your plants needed “just a little more sun.”

To everyone here, thank you for being part of her life and for sharing in these memories. I know she’d want us to leave today with smiles on our faces, because that’s the kind of person she was—someone who brought joy into the world, even in the hardest moments.

Mom, you were my rock, my best friend, and the one who taught me how to laugh no matter what. Thank you for showing me what it means to live with humor, love, and strength. I’ll carry your spirit with me, always.

And don’t worry—I’ll take care of the roses.