One year ago today, I lost my mother. The woman who spent hours in labor & gave birth to me. The woman who migrated to the United States alone, without her family. The woman who worked tirelessly day in & day out to provide for her family. The woman who fought cancer with all her strength to stay on this world longer to be with her family — until her very last breath.

It has been so hard to find the words to say how much I miss my mother. It has been so difficult to talk to people about what happened that morning — how I felt when I was holding her hand, feeling her pass away & I couldn’t do anything to help her. I remember every moment.

Being the last person to have held her hand has left me feel this huge responsibility. A responsibility I was not sure I wanted to hold. I felt I did not deserve to have been that person. It should have been someone else.

I was the last person she reached out to save her. The last person she touched. I can only hope that in that moment, I provided comfort to her. After an entire year of thinking about this moment over & over again, almost every single day, it reminds me of the nights I was so scared to fall asleep as a child & my mother would come lay in bed with me. I would twirl my moms curly black hair & it provided comfort for me knowing she was there. I was able to fall asleep & not be afraid of the dark because she was there with me.

It was only fitting that I was able to do the same for her when she was laying in bed, afraid to fall asleep.

Today, I remember your smile, your laugh, your courage, your strength, your faith, & your unwavering love for your children.

I miss you, Mommy.  Every single day.

I love you.