Second Home

It seems everyone has a second home. That house they hung out at in almost equal time to their own. The one you can just walk in the front door without ringing the doorbell or knocking. Where you can open the fridge or pantry and help yourself without judgment. You call your second parents Mom and Dad, and mean it just as much as when you’re speaking to your own parents. You get ribbed by the older siblings and clung to by the younger ones. You know where everything is in the drawers and closets. You know how to use all the appliances and which remotes work which devices. You stay for dinner. You sleep over without asking. It’s home. You are family.
Part of my second home left this Earth today. Grief. It sometimes feels all consuming. I have trouble focusing on the most menial of tasks. Part of me is broken. Three minutes does not go by without thinking about my loss. The loss we are all feeling: your husband, your children and grandchildren, your mother, your brothers and sisters, your nieces and nephews, your friends. The loss of so many touched by you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your light. Your giving spirit.
And yet, even in my heart-wrenching sadness, I am so thankful. Thankful I knew you. Thankful for all the memories over the past 28 years. Thankful for the road trips, laughing til we cried, silly songs and Slurpee stops. Thankful for the trust you placed in me. Thankful for the wonderful people you brought into this world who are not just my friends, but my family. But most of all, I am eternally thankful I was able to tell you all of this, to say my goodbyes, and let you know how much you mean to me. How much I love you. The ways you changed me as a person. The wife, the mother, the daughter, the sister, the aunt, the friend – all the pieces that make me whole.
Rest now, Mom. I will miss you. Until we meet again…

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