Today is my mom’s first birthday since she passed.

That still feels strange to say.

I find myself holding two truths at the same time. I wish she were still here, and I am grateful that her suffering has ended. I grieve her absence while trusting that God, in His kindness, brought her into rest.

What I miss most isn’t a single memory or moment.
It’s how I felt when I was with her.

I felt loved.

There was never any doubt. I didn’t have to earn it or prove myself. I just knew. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how rare that kind of love is. Very few people make you feel that safe, that known, that accepted.

I miss her because she loved me well.

Scripture says that “every good and perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). When I think about my mom’s love, that verse rings true. Her love wasn’t perfect, but it was real. Through her, I experienced a reflection of God’s care — steady, present, and unearned.

That love did not end when her life did.

The love I received is still part of me. It shaped how I understand safety, belonging, and grace. In a world that often measures worth by performance, her love quietly echoed the truth of the gospel — that love is something we receive, not something we achieve.

“See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God” (1 John 3:1).

Today, I’m not trying to rush grief or resolve it neatly. I simply want to honor what God gave me through her life — a mother who loved her child well, and a love that continues to bear fruit even in her absence.

Happy birthday, Mom.
I miss you.
And I carry your love with me.