I still mother them….

Fifty-one days.

Fifty-one days since my daughter died, and some days it still feels impossible to even type those words. Fifty-one days since the world shifted in a way I didn’t know it could. The truth is, grief does not move in straight lines. Some days I can function, laugh even. Other days, something as small as opening the refrigerator or hearing a song can bring me to my knees.

In fifty-one days, there have been a thousand moments where I thought, “I should text her,” before remembering I can’t. Fifty-one days of realizing all the things she will never get to see. She will never watch her daughter turn eighteen. She will never see her son become a teenager. There are milestones that should belong to her, moments a mother is supposed to stand in, and the unfairness of that sits heavy in my chest in a way I cannot even fully explain.

Last night, I made strawberry Jell-O salad, the kind of thing that carries memories in every bite. And standing there in my kitchen, I caught myself wishing I had made it for her more. Wishing I had sent the text. Made the favorite meal. Stayed a little longer. Said yes more. Loved louder. The thing grief does is hand you a thousand tiny regrets wrapped inside memories that once felt ordinary.

Her death has reminded me of something I wish none of us had to learn the hard way. There are no extra days promised to us. We live like there will always be another holiday, another dinner, another trip, another chance to say what we mean. But sometimes there isn’t. Sometimes life changes in one phone call, one moment, one breath.

So take the picture. Eat the dessert. Go on the trip. Sit in the messy kitchen talking too long. Love the people who love you back, and love them extra hard. Tell people what they mean to you while they are still here to hear it. Stop waiting for the perfect time because perfect is a moving target and tomorrow is not guaranteed.

And maybe the biggest lesson in all of this is learning who matters. The people who show up. The people who stay. The people who love you when life is ugly and hard and unfair. Hold onto those people tightly. Love them extra, because the rest of it, the noise, the drama, the people who drain your spirit, it is all just extraneous fluff. Life is way too short to spend precious time on anything that does not feel like love.