My first Christmas without Santa

This was the last photo I took of my mother. This time last year my mother got the flu. Since she had no immune system at the time due to her illness, it was very dangerous. I remember my father and I bringing her to the hospital. We spent the day with her there secretly praying the whole time they would let her come home for Christmas Eve. I put Christmas music on my iPod and sat next to her bed listening to it and watching videos with her and smiling. That was the thing about my mother, no matter how she felt, she was always smiling.

They did let her come home, and even though she was still very sick and in a lot of pain she continued masking it with her smiles and positive outlook. This photo was taken Christmas morning, 2012. She would probably strangle me for posting a picture of her in her robe! But the reason I had to post this is because her face illuminates her personality so perfectly in this photo. To my mother, the joy was rarely about the gift itself, but always entirely about the act - our family, a friend, just being there. Making time to be present. She was always so giving. And when this was returned she was so grateful, so happy, so excited. This photo epitomizes my mother.

Writing this today is almost impossible. My hands are actually shaking as I do. I still can't believe that she is gone. It took me months to actually say it out loud, but I still can't say it without crying.

She was the best person I knew. She was the definition of class. I remember her doctor came in the last week we were with her in the hospital and told me, "Your mother was the most graceful person I've ever met."

The last nine months have been the hardest months of my life. They have also been the most life-changing. I quit my job at the Practising Law Institute in Manhattan. I moved out of Manhattan. I moved in with my father for three months, and in just six days from now I am moving to the Virgin Islands. Since I have been home I've been in and out of the country, from Europe to Jamaica and even a trip to Tennessee. I've barely unpacked my life from the city and have six days to pack for my new life on an island. It's been exciting, challenging, and a little scary to think about everything that has already happened and everything that is about to happen.

Last Friday an amazing friend of mine brought me to go see the Long Island Medium. It was an interesting experience to say the least. After leaving everyone asked what I thought of the show. Did I think she was real? Was it all made up? Honestly, I have no idea. That wasn't what I took from it though. I was in a room of three thousand people. What I experienced was three thousand people that have lost someone they loved. Three thousand people that know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of your chest and to feel like you might not ever have a genuine smile again. I listened to their stories, and admired their strength. If they could be this strong, so could I, right? The medium would walk around during the performance and have people's loved ones "come through" in spirit to communicate with their family or friends in the audience. Someone asked me if I was upset my mom didn't come through, and I honestly was not. You see, I was fortunate enough to have an answer for what happened. Was her passing sooner than I expected? Yes. Was I ready for it? Absolutely not. I lived in a world of denial before my mom died. A world where I thought my mom would actually "kick cancer's ass" and she would never leave me. But I knew what happened. It isn't comforting but at least it is an answer. So many people in that room were searching for answers to what happened to their loved one. My mom didn't need to come through and tell me anything that she hadn't already told me before she had to go. That was the type of woman she was, the one who constantly told her children she loved them. The wife that kissed her husband and danced around with him in the kitchen and loved him unconditionally. She lived. So many people just go through life looking ahead and not always living in the moment and taking advantage of what they had at that moment. My mother was not one of them.

So this Christmas, as painful and hard as it will be, I will smile and be thankful. Thankful for having my family support my move to an island to pursue my passion of photography. Thankful for my friends who have held my hands, kept me laughing, and stuck with me when life got really, really hard. Thankful for the new life I will start in six days. Thankful for having a  mother with the most beautiful heart that taught me to live in the moment, remind those we love how we feel, and to always always smile.

I wish you all a happy holiday filled with ten million smiles and more love than you can handle. Remind yourself that life is short, and hug your friends and family a little tighter this year.

Looking up to her since 1987:

Last Christmas with Mom:

That unconditional love I was telling you about:

Meeting the LI Medium with Lauren: