Hi Mumma,

As the holidays roll around again, I find myself aching for you even more. While I feel you with me every day in some way, there’s an emptiness that nothing else can fill. I miss your face—your smile that lit up the room. I miss your hugs—how they wrapped around me like nothing else in the world mattered. And I miss your scent—a mix of comfort, love, and white diamonds. I’d give anything to hug you right now.

The more time passes, the more I realize how deep this wound runs. It doesn’t fade, but I’m learning to carry it, to honor you in the way I live. Still, some days, like today, I just want my Mumma.

On this Thanksgiving, I want to thank you—not just for the love you gave me, but for who you were at your core. You were so brave even when life was heavy. You carried strength in your bones and compassion in your heart, always moving with integrity and grace. Those qualities weren’t just admirable; they were inspiring. I strive every day to live with even a fraction of the courage and kindness you did.

I try not to let the grief consume me, because I know you wouldn’t want that. You’d want me to embrace the joy, to find moments of gratitude even in the tears. So today, I’ll do just that. I’ll laugh, I’ll share memories of you, and I’ll have an extra slice of pumpkin pie for you—extra whipped cream, of course, just the way you liked it.

I love you, more than words could ever express. You’re not just in my heart—you are my heart. And even though I ache for you, I also carry a deep appreciation for every moment we shared. Thank you for being my Mumma.

I hope wherever you are, you feel my love reaching out to you.

With love,

April