Sunday mornings

I love Sunday mornings and the feeling of complete freedom to relax, lie in bed, and read. Or spend the morning in solitude. I usually wake up, make myself coffee, and putter around the house listening to Sunday Brunch on the Mountain.

When I was younger, Sundays were hard for me, because they were the days that I missed mom the most. Oftentimes, I’d think about calling her. And right after she died, there were many times I did. I’d get halfway through the numbers, be overcome by sadness, and put the phone down.

Now although I miss her more than anything, I don’t have that same sadness—or at least it's not constant. It still always comes back when I least expect it.

I’m starting to see where she appears in my own life. My family has new traditions, too. Every few weeks, my dad and Nick come to visit on Sundays and we spend the afternoon together. We all still feel mom’s absence, but I'm incredibly grateful that we are able to be close in this way. That we are able to celebrate life.