I still mother them….

Tonight my heart feels heavy.

Today, for the first time, I sprinkled the ashes of both of my kids together in an ocean far away from home.

I have always believed in leaving little pieces of them in places they never got to see. Beautiful places. Places I know they would have loved. Both of my kids loved the water. They loved beautiful views, trips, adventure. So in some weird mom way, I guess I feel like I still get to take them places.

But nobody tells you how hard it is when you actually have to open the jar.

Nobody tells you what it feels like to pour your babies into a little cap and let go.

And then throw the cap away.

That part got me.

I think because this was the first time I mixed them together. The first time I stood somewhere so far from home and had to leave both of them there, even though I know in my heart it is only their physical body. I know they are not in those ashes. I know they are bigger than that now. But when you are a mom, it still feels impossible sometimes to leave any piece of your child behind.

I know Gabriella would have loved it here. I know Vincent would have too. They loved the water. They loved beautiful places. And sitting on the edge of the ocean today reminded me of when Vincent was little and we went to the National Aquarium. It was him, Gabriella and me. He was absolutely in his element. Fish swimming right up to him, touching him, and he loved every second of it. Gabriella and I? Not so much. We stood off to the side drinking coladas and watching him be completely fascinated. It became one of those trips he talked about forever.

And somehow that memory brought me comfort today.

As I stood there watching both of their ashes drift back into the ocean, mixed in with all the seaweed that is everywhere here in the Dominican Republic this time of year, I just stood there for a while. Quiet. Thinking.

And then I smiled.

Not because I wasn’t sad. I am sad. I will always be sad. Losing your children changes you forever.

But I smiled because we had so many good memories.

One thing I know for sure is my kids loved me.

That sounds like a small thing, but it isn’t.

Not every parent gets to say that when the doors were closed, their kids still said “I love you.” Mine did. Even in the hard moments. Even in the fightiest mother daughter moments. Gabriella thanked me for never giving up on her because I didn’t. I never gave up on her. And I never gave up on Vincent either. Not once.

Tonight, I am choosing to believe they are together.

And if I know my kids, I know the saddest part for them would be knowing they left me heartbroken. Not because they aren’t okay, but because they would hate knowing their deaths caused pain.

But today, standing on that beach by myself, I found a way to celebrate them.

I celebrated the memories.

The love.

The absolute privilege of getting to be their mom.

And if somebody handed me a crystal ball years ago and said, “This is how it ends, do you still want them?”

My answer would be yes.

A thousand times yes.

Because even though it ended like this, the love was bigger. The joy was bigger. And I would choose being their mom over and over again.