Grief & Love That Lingers

November 3, 2025

I miss my mom.

One of the first things I ever claimed as belonging to my mother was her little pin cushion turtle — the one she stitched for her pajntaub needles. It now rests on a small shelf in my bedroom, beside a statue of four monkeys my parents have kept since we were kids.

The other day, Gabriel was pointing at it. I thought maybe he wanted to hold the turtle. A small conversation began in my mind: I don’t want the kids to ruin it. Then another voice — quieter, wiser — whispered, What’s the point of keeping something on display if no one gets to touch it?

So I reached for the turtle and handed it to him.

But Gabriel didn’t want it. So I held it instead, tracing my mother’s stitches — the careful threads woven by her hands — and something inside me cracked open. Tears came suddenly.

Gabriel stood there, unsure of what had happened. Fugie heard me from his office and came to check on me. He wrapped his arms around me, and I wept.

I miss my mom. Her absence hurts my heart.

She used to call to check on me, to ask about the kids, to tell me to greet Fugie. Every time before hanging up, I made sure to tell her I love her and Dad.
Kuv hlub koj hab txiv os. Kuv hlub meb os.

I miss her prayers.
I miss her laughter.
And I miss how seriously she listened — the way her silence carried care.

Times have been pretty tough for my family lately. We’re financially struggling, and I just want to be able to talk to my mom about everything that’s on my heart — the stress, the worry, the weight of trying to hold it all together. But when I think of her, all I can manage to say is:

I miss you, Mom.

Grief has a way of surprising us in moments like these — in a simple stitch, a sound, or a touch. It sneaks up quietly and reminds us that love never really leaves. It lingers, woven into the fabric of our days, waiting to be felt again.

Maybe that’s the gift of grief — that even in missing her, I am reminded of how deeply she loved me and extended that love to my family. And how, somehow, that love still finds me.