My first Mother’s Day without you brings up more emotion than I expected. 

In those final weeks, it was not just sadness. It was exhaustion. The kind that comes from walking through the long, difficult journey of this disease. But now, with a little time and space, something has shifted. The emotions are flowing differently. 

There really is something to the stages of grief. I feel like I’ve entered a new phase. One I can’t quite define. It’s not just sadness anymore; it’s something deeper, with more layers. It’s not that these emotions are new, but that so many of them exist at once, overlapping in ways I’ve never experienced before. A kind of opening into a new realm. 

And what surprises me most is that not all of the emotion is painful. 

There is beauty here too. 

Lately, I have found myself seeing memories more clearly. The good memories. 

As I have shared in my support group, when someone is living with Alzheimer’s disease, grieving does not happen only at the end. It happens throughout the entire progression of the disease. You grieve piece by piece, moment by moment, as parts of the person you love slowly change. 

For a long time, many of my memories were tied to those difficult years. Watching my mom suffer. Witnessing the losses that came with the disease. 

But now, those memories are no longer what rises to the surface first. 

 Instead, I am beginning to see her again. 

 The memories from before the disease. 

The laughter. 

The warmth. 

The love. 

 And there is something incredibly comforting in that. 

For anyone walking this journey, caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s, or grieving someone you have lost, I want you to know this: those beautiful, precious memories are still there. And in time, they return to you. They become what remains. 

 In many ways, this is also why I feel so called to give back. 

Through my A.N.I.T.A. program, A Network Inspiring Togetherness and Awareness, I offer education and support to others walking this same path. It is my way of honoring my mom, and helping others feel less alone as they navigate the complexities of caregiving, grief, and love. 

 Mom, I love you. 

I miss you. Your energy, your smile, your unwavering love for your family, and for me. 

 Happy Mother’s Day. 

You will always be my mother.