I'm not sure why I stopped writing.
I think a lot of it has to do with having three small children. haha

I miss my mom. I miss my friend.

I want to record more memories.

We are in this pandemic and I wonder what you would have thought. I want to know what you think. I want to talk to you.

I WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

All the tears. Because I want to talk to you. Or even just sit next to you. We wouldn't have to say anything. We could just sit and look at each other. I just want to look at you. I just want to be in your presence. I just want to hold your hand. I'll take any of it. I'll take a dream. I'll take anything. I want you. I miss you.

David just turned four. June is seven. Braydon is 10. I hope you can see how incredible they are. I feel like you can.

Things are getting easier with this kids. Pandemic life isnt easy but they are so much easier, because for the first time in 10 years, we don't have a toddler.

I want to watch you see it. I want to watch you see how incredible they all three are. And I do believe you can see them. But I miss seeing you see them. I always thought as the kids got older, we would be able to finish more conversations, and go on more adventurous and longer adventures with the kids. And I think we would be.

I miss my friend.

You woulda rocked this pandemic thing I think. You would be missing your pedicures and walk in foot massages. I laugh through my tears at the thought. But you always liked it best in small groups, preferably just family. You really valued time together without distraction. You valued time outdoors.

I can remember my last birthday with you. November 2018. Two weeks before my birthday, we had been shocked when the doctors told us you had only one to three more months to live. We were still looking for a miracle, always. But we were also in deep pain. You asked what I wanted for my birthday and I said just some time alone with you. We all wanted time alone with you. It was so hard to be away from you. Every moment was so hard, but when I was with you, I felt more ok and even joyful. For you were somehow still so yourself and determined to continue to pour out love and joy and laughter and peace onto us kids.

On my birthday, the kids were at school. Landon was at work. We had lunch together at my house with Dad and Blake and Paige and Ana. Asian, your favorite. Then everyone left and you and I headed upstairs to lie down in my bed and talk. I don't remember what all we talked about, but I clearly remember one part and I think about it often.

There was always this hope that you were going to have some "good weeks' coming up. Or even some "good days." You had a lot of fatigue and swelling and pain and weakness and it seemed like just as the doctors would tell you you could have a better feeling week coming up, something would happen that made you feel worse instead of better.

As we had stopped chemo, there was a hope that you could have some time that you felt more like yourself. We talked about that possibility, and I asked you if there was anywhere you would want to go, anything you would want to do, if you got more energy. I remember smiling and saying, maybe we could go to Frisco! I had been to Frisco, CO a couple years before with my little family and you had told me you wanted to go and we had a running dream of going there together as a girls trip and taking advantage of the spas and numerous hiking I had seen and not yet done on my family trip.

I remember so clearly the way you smiled at me. I could feel your love, We were holding hands and you put your other hand on mine and said, "I can't imagine anything better than this. If I get some good days, I want to do more of exactly this. This, talking with you on your bed, is the best thing I can imagine. I just to be with my family. I don't want to go anywhere. This is what I want."

And I smiled and said, "You are right. This is the best. I'm so happy to be here. I want to do this more too." And I stared at you and asked every fiber of my being to not forget how wonderful you are. And how much you love me and want to be with me.

And our time just resting and talking was the best. And all these months later, I know even more clearly how much you were right.

And sometimes when I am lying in bed with someone in our family, just talking and completely just taking it for granted, I remember you saying that. And I watch the beauty of that person. And the miracle they are and our love is. And your wisdom is such a gift. And when I think about what I would ask for if God asked me where I would want to go if I had an afternoon to do whatever I wanted and be wherever I wanted, I would be back on that bed with you, talking. And just being together.

Unless I could go to heaven. Envisioning getting to go to heaven and meet Jesus in person and see you again is something that keeps me going.

I miss you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Thank you for all of the heart rocks and rainbows. Thank you for mothering me so well.