Merry Christmas, Mum. Today hurts in a quiet way, the kind that settles deep in the chest and stays there. This is the first Christmas of my life without you, and everything feels a little dimmer because of it. The house feels like it’s missing its heartbeat. Your smile—the one that could lift an entire room before the sun even had a chance—won’t be here. Your stories won’t drift through the morning air, and the familiar smells of the food you made with so much care and love won’t wrap themselves around us. Christmas arrived, but it came softer this year, almost afraid to remind us of what’s missing.
Still, I feel you everywhere. In the laughter that breaks through the sadness, in the quiet moments when memories come rushing back without warning, in the lessons you left behind that guide us even now. You are part of us—woven into who we are and who we’re becoming—and nothing, not even time, can take that away. I carry you with me, Mum, always. I love you endlessly. Rest peacefully, and Merry Christmas.
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