I understand

My mother died from Cervical Cancer when I was 6 years old. I still remember the night my father came home and delivered the devastating news. At the funeral, I saw my father break down and cry. Over the years, this single father of four kept his children close. Some might say we were spoiled and coddled. I say we were loved and protected.

I remember him coming into our rooms at night. I would open one eye and see him standing at the door, checking up on us before he went to bed. We were not rich by any means, but my father made sure we had all that we needed.

As we grew older, he made sure he knew how much he loved our mother and how much she loved us. Even to this day, he will send us texts (yes, my father can text - hard to believe) on their would be anniversary, on her birthday, on the day she died, and on the day her funeral was held. Even though he is remarried, he has kept her memory alive. Every year on the day she died, a memorial appears in the newspaper. He wistfully reminds us that if she were still alive, they would still be married.

I often found it strange growing up that he spoke of her as if she were still alive. He raised us the way she wanted us to be raised. He kept her memory alive for us. He made sure we had pictures, knew her personality, jokes she told, where she worked, the things she did. He made sure we never forgot our mom.

I understand. I want everyone to remember Alyssa-Joy and Evan. I want to honor their memories. I want their future sibling to know that they are directly responsible for getting his/her here safely. I want them and the effect they have had on our lives to remain and remind others that they mattered. I talk of my children daily with my husband. Their pictures hang proudly on our walls. There names are mentioned in conversation with others, they are thought of with love. I want their lives to matter, just like my father made sure my mother's life mattered.

Awaiting my expected end.