As though they were never gone...

In two and a half weeks it will be the seventh anniversary of my sisters death.
Seven. Years.
For seven years, I've been constantly asking myself how I was able to manage to make it so far without her. ...Today I realized I haven't.

When you lose someone that's a piece of you... when a hole in your heart gets torn out because part of your world has ended... all you can think about is how they're gone. Life goes on and happy things happen, but you always end up to the conclusion that it's not fair. My husband should of had a sister-in-law. My nephew/son should have his mom and my kids should of had an aunt. My brothers and I should have our sister. My parents should have their daughter. Today I realized that we DO have her.

When you lose someone, people often tell you that they're not really gone as long as they live within your heart. This is not entirely true. I carry my sister within my heart, every single moment of every single day, but it's not because of just that that she lives on. Today I realized how often she shows up because it's not just my heart she still lives in.

Sometimes I'll find a picture, or someone will send me one that they've found, of her beautiful smile. ...Or one of her ridiculous faces, and I find myself discovering that piece of her all over again.
Sometimes I'll say something and someone will smile and laugh because a single word that I said reminded them of a memory with my sister in it. One that I haven't heard, or have forgotten about, and I find myself discovering a piece of her I hadn't known.
And then there are other times when I'll meet a stranger, who wasn't really a stranger at all. A stranger who just so happens to be missing that part of Monique that should still be in their lives. ...And then I get to hear all about who she was to them. ...And I find myself discovering more of her that I never even knew was there.

When you lose someone... everyone loses them. Before I lost my sister, I never knew what to say at funerals, to loved ones. After I lost her, I thought that would change. Instead, I just realized there really isn't anything you can say. Some people say that it gets easier. Whoever said that is a liar who has never known what it's like to lose part of their heart. It doesn't get easier. It never will. But one thing that I have learned that you can do, is to share. Tell a story. Show a picture. That's how they live on. That's how she lives on. And for those few split moments, they leave your heart and enter the room as though they were never gone.

Wingless Angel

Growing up isn't easy. For anyone. Everyone has their "thing", their difficulty, their struggle. To say yours is worse then someone else's is ignorant. Fortunately for me, God gave me my saving grace. My "cure" for all things bad, for all things that threaten to send me to crazy town. Amongst all things that life has to offer, are the things it has to threaten you with. Those moments, those people, those situations that would make any sane human being burst with insanity. Everyone has their "demons". I'm fortunate to have my angel.

My mom.
No matter what, she's been there. No matter what, she's loved me. No matter what, she IS there. No matter what, she LOVES me.

I know there are about a million "mom" tribute's. But for every million, there's probably a million and one people who aren't fortunate to have a reason to make one. Some people have a reason, but lack realization.

I refuse to be one of THOSE people. I refuse to not realize what I've been so fortunate to have.

My mom doesn't sugar coat things, or make them seem better then they are, but she constantly reminds me of what is coming. She's constantly reminding me that it won't always be hard. That there will always be a rainbow at the end of the storm. A finish line at the end of a race.

She tells it like it is, and leaves room to remind you of the hope that will always be there.

Another great thing about my mom is that she never lets a day go by without letting you know how much she loves you. She never takes a single moment for granted. She finds beauty in the ashes, and strength in the weakest moments of our lives. She never stops reminding you just how awesome you are, as a person, and how lucky the world is to have you in it.

A lot of people say it... "If I could be HALF the person my mother is, then I know I did something right". I AM the person I am, because my mother did something right. I'm the mom I am, because my mom was the best mom. I'm the wife I am, because of my mom. I'm the friend I am, because my mom is my best friend. I've learnt everything I know, everything I know how to be, from my mom and not a day goes by that I'm not anything else but grateful.

I don't hope to be as good of a mom as her, I KNOW I will be. Because I had her as my teacher. I'm so confident in the person SHE is, that I'm equally as confident in the person I am.


Mom, thank you. There are really no other words. Thank you for being who you are. The world is a better place because YOU are in it. I'm a better person because YOU are my mom. My children are better people because they can call YOU their Nana. I love you and Happy Birthday! <3.

Awkward Closure.

Today, someone, somewhere, lost a father. Someone lost a husband, an uncle, a brother. Today, someone lost a son. It doesn't matter what he's done in his life, these people loved him. They may (or may not) have hated the things he's done, but they loved him. Your heart doesn't let your head choose who you love.

Today people, possibly millions - if not more, rejoiced and celebrated in the death of this same man.

I don't deny this man deserved anything less then death, but I refuse to rejoice over it. How can we still find a way to call ourselves human when we can rejoice and celebrate over something we'd typically curl up and practically die ourselves over? I'm not saying we need to mourn. I'm not saying to swallow that sigh of relief, or to hold back that salute to a passing soldier. We needed this. The world needed it. But are we really willing to lower ourselves to Osama Bin Laden's status and rejoice over the man's death? How does that make us any different than him?

I will forever tip my hat to any soldier for making my world a safer place. I will forever raise the American flag with pride. With joy. I will not, however, raise my glass to a man's death. No matter how vile that man was. No matter how grimy, nasty, or dirty. People like Bin Laden disgust the crap out of me, but I can't help it that my heart grieves for them. I can't help that I feel upset, disappointed, that they left this world without even knowing in their own minds that all they have done was wrong. It saddens me that they, he, probably died without realizing how warped his way of thinking was. That he passed, without even being able to come to that realization and even in the slightest way attempt to make it right. It breaks my heart that he probably never knew of it any other way. That he probably never knew what real love was, or that he never knew how it felt to do something good for someone, something that would bring life into their lives instead of death and torment.

I really don't know how else I could ever describe how this whole situation makes me feel. It's awkward. I'm happy for the people, the families, who were able to find some sort of closure for the actions that were taken against those they love by the hand of this man. I'm glad the world doesn't have to live with wondering were Osama could be, or where he'll strike next. I'm overjoyed that our soldiers have claimed a victory, that our country can be at peace with certain things. But... if this one man could make so many people feel so much hate and know so much loss, then he could of changed the world in a positive way, with a positive influence. He could of really lived his life, with love and true hope. He didn't. For that simple reason, my heart breaks that this man missed his chance to be something great. My heart breaks that his family has to live with that.