When I can't sleep at night, I think of all the things you've missed out on and all things that are still yet to come. You missed my first job. Signing the title to my first car. Looking for apartments and houses. You're going to miss coming over for dinner at my place. Going to Tennessee for holidays. Seeing Dawn. Watching Jaiden go through school. Her first dance. Her first date. Her first heartbreak, where you get to tell her, her heart has to be broken for her to know what love really is. Her graduating, walking across a stage, and going to college. Seeing your first grandchild and holding them and being called Nana. Watching me walk down an aisle in a beautiful wedding dress saying "there goes my baby." Holding my hand when I feel like I just can't do it anymore. Taking me for my first drink even though I don't like to drink. Calling to make sure life is looking up and not down. I'll never be able to show you pictures of a family vacation when I'm older. I miss the comments on Facebook. The little talks. Making food, and you asking "what's that, can I have a bite?" And then stealing it and making me make more. You taught me how to use a spoon, how to talk, how to walk, how to tie my shoes, how to read, how to write my name. You taught me compassion, sympathy, empathy, and how to keep on keeping on. You taught me more than I could ever teach myself. You prepared me for everything life throws at me except for how to live without you. And quite frankly, I don't know how I'm still breathing. I should of told them to buy two urns. Sometimes I don't know how I go on. 8 years ago today at 11:23 am, we got a phone call from city hospital that you were in a car accident. It was a bonding moment Donovan and I had that I hope we never have to experience again. He was in the kitchen by the bathroom and I was at the table. We just looked at each other and then we hugged as we sat on the floor until dad told us to get in the van. They wouldn't let us see you. They said we weren't prepared for that. They helicoptered you to Inova Fairfax. We saw you get loaded in to the helicopter and I just kept saying that it wasn't you. We drove the two hours and  some odd minutes to the hospital and we waited in the waiting room for hours and toted Jaiden around in a little red wagon.  We waited and waited and waited. Then they told us we couldn't see you and we went home. First thing Monday morning we went to the hospital again and they asked us if we were ready to see you but they told us that they had to take a picture and make sure. They were gone for about 15 minutes which felt like a life time for a 13 year old girl. They brought out a Polaroid picture of you and when they handed it to me I swore it wasn't you. I begged. I had to see for myself. I remember saying "that's not my mom. You're lying." Sure enough, it was you. I never saw dad cry so hard before your accident and that day, I hoped that I would never have to see him cry like that again. And then August 17, 2014, you died. You stopped living that day. Your heart gave up. Your body was weak. Your soul tired. Your mind restless. The fight you gave to keep living in 2007 was gone. You gave in and you went home. You left my life but you never left my heart. You taught me to keep living no matter how bad I wanted to die. "Everything is going to be OK in the end. If its not OK, it's not the end." You were okay in the end mom. You don't have to suffer. You don't have to fight. You don't have to struggle. You're okay. And you found the end. I love you mom. Say, "I love you more." Always and forever. " you'll be in my heart."