115 months into your precious life … 115 months gone today.
This photo was taken long before many of life’s hardest chapters were written—as most childhood photos are. Looking at it now, I’m reminded that grief is rarely confined to one person or one loss. Often, on this journey, one memory opens the door to many others.
In this moment, Morgan was chillin’ with Logan and his crew. The quarter-pipe sat in our driveway, and for a while it seemed to be the center of everything. Pink hair, black hair, natural hair—it didn’t matter. Morgan wasn’t much into skateboarding, but he liked being where the action was. Like many younger brothers, he looked up to Logan and enjoyed being part of whatever was going on.
The past week has been especially difficult. The loss of someone I loved has stirred memories I wasn’t expecting. Not because grief for Morgan was hidden or dormant, but because one loss has a way of colliding with another. Faces, voices, laughter, and ordinary moments suddenly feel close again. We loved each other deeply, and that love was always real. Life simply carried us in different directions, with different paths, wants, and needs. Even so, his loss has been difficult to process. And truthfully, I’m not sure it ever fully will be.
Missing Morgan is not something reserved for difficult weeks. It is part of my everyday life. The longing for him doesn’t need a reason or a reminder—it simply exists. But this past week has reminded me how grief echoes through the years, how love leaves its mark, and how quickly memories can rise to the surface.
Looking at Morgan standing in our driveway during those summer days, I’m reminded how precious and fleeting life can be. None of us know which ordinary moments will become the memories we carry for the rest of our lives.
Today, my heart is holding many memories and many people. Morgan, always. And this week, another soul very much loved, gone too soon.
I love you.
I miss you.
You should be here.
MoM
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