MOM, WOMBIE, I GOT IT FROM HERE. 🧸💝🥰❤️‍🩹❤️

MOM, WOMBIE, I GOT IT FROM HERE. 🧸💝🥰❤️‍🩹❤️

Beloveds,

The last two pieces went out into the world.

This one comes home.

No enormous assignment.

No trying to explain grief for everybody.

Just family.

Just love.

Just some things I need to say.

🧸

Mom, thanks for your love.🧸🥰

Thank you.

Not because everything was perfect.

Not because life gave us every day we wanted.

It didn’t.

There was supposed to be a March.

There was supposed to be a vacation.

You were supposed to see my new car.

We didn’t get those things.

But before March didn’t happen—

you happened.

❤️

You were here.

You were my mother.

You loved.

You gave.

We gave away your favorite bears at your funeral.

🧸

Mom left giving love.

I love in her stead.

And here I am, still trying to give love away.

Still trying to tell somebody:

You matter.

I see you.

Don’t give up.

Love somebody.

Love this world.

🌎❤️

Mom,

thanks for your love.🧸🥰

I can’t hand it back to you.

So I’ll keep letting it travel.

❤️➡️🌎

But—

Mom, I’m puzzled.🧩🧸

I am.

About life.

Timing.

Things that happened.

Things that didn’t.

Things I thought I understood.

Things I still don’t.

Pieces that don’t seem to fit.

🧩

And I’ve learned something:

Faith doesn’t require me to pretend the puzzle is complete.

Sometimes:

I don’t know.

That’s my answer.

I believe God.

And I don’t know.

I trust God.

And I’m puzzled.

I miss you.

And God has been good to me.

Those truths can sit beside one another.

🙏🏿❤️‍🩹

Which brings me here:

Mom, Won’t/didn’t He do it!💝

Mom—

look.

👀

Not because everything happened the way I wanted.

Not because every prayer received the answer I would have chosen.

Not because I haven’t hurt.

Not because every puzzle piece suddenly fits.

But after everything—

I’m here.

❤️‍🩹

Still loving.

Still believing.

Still questioning.

Still laughing.

Still crying.

Still learning.

Still finding my voice.

Still using it.

Still telling somebody not to give up.

Still looking at this enormous world and saying:

I love you.

🌎❤️

Won’t He do it!

Didn’t He do it!

💝🙏🏿

I’m puzzled.

🧩

And I have testimony.

💝

Both are mine.

Both are true.

Now—

Wombie.

🧸

No translation.

No explanation.

No footnote.

Some words belong inside relationships.

Some names carry histories outsiders weren’t there to witness.

Some language doesn’t need anybody else’s permission.

So:

Wombie.

🧸❤️

You and me.

Mom’s daughters.

Same Mom.

Different daughters.

Different memories.

Different grief.

Different pieces.

🧩🧩

And somewhere inside all those pieces—

Mom.

Not a metaphor.

Not merely somebody we lost.

Mom.

And us.

Still here.

❤️‍🩹❤️

The world kept moving after Mom died.

Morning came.

People went to work.

Traffic remained traffic.

Bills remained profoundly committed to being bills.

🤣

And somehow we kept moving too.

Not because we forgot.

Not because we stopped loving.

Because we’re alive.

Living after somebody dies is not betrayal.

Mom’s daughters are allowed to live.

Allowed to laugh.

Allowed to love.

Allowed to make memories.

Allowed to change.

Allowed to heal.

Allowed to remember.

Allowed to have joy.

Allowed to keep going.

❤️‍🩹

And now I need to say something without explaining it afterward.

Wombie, Cassie, sis, friend. I got it from here.🧸💝🥰❤️‍🩹❤️

Mom,

thanks for your love.🧸🥰

Mom,

I’m puzzled.🧩🧸

Mom,

Won’t/didn’t He do it!💝

And—

Wombie, Cassie, sis, friend. I got it from here.🧸💝🥰❤️‍🩹❤️

That’s enough.

No sermon after it.

No explanation.

Just—

❤️

Cassandra