A tribute to my mom, the pain of losing a parent, and the strength she gave me to finally face my fears.
Today is my mom’s birthday.
And I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how to put into words what she meant to me… and honestly, I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever fully be able to do.
She wasn’t just my mom.
She was my strength.
She was my example.
She was the reason I became the person I am today… and the reason I keep trying to become better.
I watched her go through things in life that no one should ever have to go through. I saw pain in her that most people never see in someone they love. But even through all of it, she kept going.
She kept loving.
She kept showing up.
And she taught me, without ever saying it directly, what it looks like to be strong when life is trying to break you.
For most of my life, fear controlled more of me than people probably realized… or maybe they did.
Fear of failure.
Fear of judgment.
Fear of putting myself out there and not being good enough.
I spent years starting things and walking away from them when they got hard. Years doubting myself before I even gave myself a chance.
But watching my mom fight cancer changed something in me.
I watched someone who was terrified keep going anyway. I watched someone who had every reason to give up still wake up every day and try to hold onto life for the people she loved.
And somewhere through all of that, I realized something.
If she could face all of that fear and pain head-on… then what excuse did I have to keep running from mine?
That became a huge part of why I finally picked my book back up and finished it.
Not because I suddenly stopped being afraid.
But because she showed me that being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It means you keep going anyway.
When I was younger, there were times I was scared in ways a kid shouldn’t be. And she was always the one who made me feel safe. I remember moments like that more than anything… because those were the moments that shaped who I decided I would become.
I made a promise to myself back then that I would never grow into the kind of man that hurt people the way I saw her get hurt.
I wrote more about confronting my past and learning to break those cycles in another piece here.
And I’ve carried that with me my whole life.
The Parts of Her I’ll Never Forget
Some of my favorite memories with her were the simple ones.
Being at the beach with her… I don’t think I ever saw her happier than when we were all down there together. For a little while, it felt like life hadn’t gotten to her yet. Like everything was okay.
How she loved all of her grandkids more than anything in this world. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done for them. No matter what she was going through, they were always her light.
Even towards the end, when everything was catching up to her, that never changed. I honestly think she hung on as long as she did just to make sure two of her grandchildren graduated last year.
Watching her in her final days was something I’ll never fully recover from.
There was a moment when we were on a video call with her doctor, talking about what came next. And when he said the word “hospice,” it was like everything clicked for her all at once.
She looked at us and said,
“Did he just say hospice?”
And in that moment… I watched the realization hit her.
That’s something I’ll carry with me forever.
Because the last couple years of her life, when she knew what was coming, she would confide in me sometimes that she wasn’t ready to die.
Not because she was afraid for herself.
She just wanted more time.
More time with her grandkids.
More birthdays.
More vacations.
More memories.
She wanted to watch them grow up.
And honestly… I think that’s one of the hardest parts for me too.
One of the last real moments I had with her is something I think about all the time.
I had to lift her from a chair into her bed. She was barely with it, but when I picked her up, she wrapped her arms around my neck and held onto me.
We just stayed there like that for a minute or two.
And I knew.
I knew how much she loved me.
I knew how important I was to her in that moment.
It’s one of the most painful memories I have…
but also the greatest one I’ll ever carry with me.
The Promise I Made to Her
There’s something else I need to say, because it’s a big part of why I’m doing what I’m doing right now.
I started writing my book back in 2018. It took me 17–18 months to even get through it, and when I looked back at it, I wasn’t proud of it. Especially the earlier chapters. I felt like I didn’t even know how to write anymore.
So I put it down.
And I didn’t touch it again for 4 or 5 years.
But last year, while I was sitting there watching my mom in her final days… I got so mad at myself.
Mad that I didn’t finish it while she was still here.
Mad that she wouldn’t get to read it.
And I made a promise to myself right there.
That I would finish it.
Not just for me… but for her.
Because I’ve spent a lot of my life not finishing things. And I wanted to show her, even if she couldn’t physically see it, that the strength she gave me meant something.
That I could carry it forward.
That I could finish something that mattered.
I also wrote this poem for her before she passed, and later read it at her funeral.
To the Woman I Loved First
You asked me once, when I was small,
To grow into a better man.
It took some time, I took some falls,
But I hope you’re proud of who I am.
I still recall those basement talks,
While you did laundry late at night.
A quiet strength behind your walks,
But tears that said, “This isn’t right.”
What I would’ve given then
To carry just a piece of your pain.
You faced more storms than most face when
They break beneath the strain.
I’m sorry for my reckless youth,
For every sleepless night I made.
For hiding from the hurtful truth
And all the ways I disobeyed.
I never said how dark it got,
How close I came to letting go.
But I held on because I thought
You’d already lost too much to woe.
I saw your eyes when Josh was named,
And how they dimmed beneath the sound.
I couldn’t leave and bring more shame
To love that always stayed around.
You gave me grace when I was low,
When I had nothing left to give.
You showed me how to fight and grow,
You showed me how to live.
Where you found your strength, I’ll never know,
But you stood tall through every fight.
No matter how the cold winds blow,
You carried us into the light.
Someday I’ll have to say goodbye,
And that goodbye will split my soul.
But I will guard our family’s sky
Because you made my spirit whole.
I’ll be the man you hoped I’d be,
The one you saw behind the pain.
And every time they look at me,
They’ll see your love remain.
I love you, Mom.
Forever.
Learning How to Live Without Her
Losing someone that close to you… it doesn’t make sense.
How do you go from having the most important person in your life there for 44 and a half years… to just gone?
How are you supposed to just move on from that?
At first, I didn’t even want to talk about it because it hurt too much. And then a couple weeks later, everyone else moved on… and I still hadn’t.
And honestly, I still haven’t.
There are days where all I want to do is talk about her. Even now.
I wish I would’ve cherished those first few days more, when everyone was still talking about her, sharing memories, saying her name.
Because now it feels like the world moved on… but I’m still carrying it.
If there’s one thing I want people to take from this, it’s this:
Don’t wait.
Don’t assume you have more time.
Don’t hold back what you want to say.
Don’t take the people you love for granted.
Because one day, you’ll wish you had just one more conversation.
Mom,
More than anything in my life… I hope I made you proud.
I’m sorry for all the stress I put you through growing up. For the sleepless nights. For the things I didn’t understand back then.
You were never a failure.
Not even close.
You were the greatest mother I could’ve ever asked for, and you deserved so much better than what life gave you.
Everything I do now…
every step I take forward…
every time I push myself when I don’t want to…
I do it because of you.
You were my rock.
And you still are.
You’re my guiding light now.
And I’m going to keep going…
because you showed me how.
And if my mom were reading this right now, she’d probably roll her eyes, and tell me not to be so emotional. 😂
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