January 31, 2026
Six years without you.
Hi Mom…
I can’t believe it’s been six years.
I still reach for my phone to call or text you—only to remember there’s no one on the other end anymore. So instead, I talk to myself. But really, I know it’s not just to myself. It’s to you.
Let’s be real—when you were on the other line, you mostly just let me blab and vent for as long as I needed anyway. You were the best listener. And I could really use one of those phone calls right now.
I wish I could call you to tell you about the boys. About the big moments.
“Yay, Chase is finally potty trained! We are officially out of diapers!”
And then—almost immediately realizing—whoa… we’re out of diapers. No more babies for me.
I know you’d understand that feeling. How my heart can hold so many things at once.
I wish I could call you when Michael is annoying me, and you’d say, “He loves you so much. Be nice to him.” And then follow it up with, “Because let’s be honest—you loved him almost as much as I did.”
I know you’d be there for all of Lane’s “I just need a hug” moments. And maybe you are. I like to think you are. I like to think that when the kids are struggling to fall asleep, you’re there—whispering or singing softly in their ears, rubbing their heads until they drift off.
I wish I could tell you everything about my photography business. Gosh, you’d be so proud. I know you’d be handing my business cards out like candy to anyone who would take one. You’d probably be at as many of my shoots as possible—especially the newborn sessions.
Sometimes, when a baby starts to fuss and I’m gently calming them down, I picture you shushing them to sleep and patting their little booties… you know, like you used to.
If you were sitting across from me today, I’d want you to know that I’m stronger than I was when you left. I’m not broken like I once believed I was. I’m a hustler—and I know I got that from you.
I know that when I get knocked down, I will get back up every single time. But first, I usually have to throw myself a little pity party or have a temper tantrum. (Chase definitely gets that honestly.)
Even though you’re no longer here physically, you’re still living on—so clearly—through your beautiful grandchildren.
Luci has taken your crown and fills your sassy shoes perfectly. (And yes, I secretly love it when she gets sassy with Leah.)
Milo has your kind eyes.
Brody still loves to talk about old memories he has with you. I know he talks to you. One night I caught him before bed giving your Nana Bear a kiss and hug goodnight. He misses you.
Lane has your charisma—your ability to make people instantly feel better just by being around them.
And Chase… he has your smile. The one where your eyes crinkle up when you laugh.
And me? I have it all.
When I was little, being called “Little Lucy” used to annoy me sometimes. Now, when someone says, “You’re so much like your mother,” I honestly can’t think of a better compliment.
Oh, Mom… why did you have to go so soon? Our time together wasn’t over yet.
The tears are flowing as I write this, thinking back to this day six years ago—when my world was completely shattered. I never thought this would happen to me so young.
These past six years have been some of the saddest—gut-punch saddest—times of my life. But they’ve also been some of the happiest. Marrying the man of my dreams. Adding two more beautiful boys to my life. Building this business back from the ground up.
I wish you were here to see it all.
I miss you. Always.
Love always,
Tara
P.S. If love alone could keep people here, you would’ve never had to leave. I hope you know how deeply you are still carried—every single day.