When my mother passed away just days before my son was born, the grief felt unbearable. She had always been my guide and support, and I had imagined her walking beside me through motherhood. At that time, my daughter was only three years old, and I believed she was too young to truly grasp the weight of what had happened.
Years later, when my daughter was twenty, I shared with a friend how difficult it was that my mom never met my son. Even after so much time, saying it out loud brought back a sting of sadness. To my surprise, my daughter gently interrupted, telling me that wasn’t true. She recalled, with quiet certainty, that she had seen her grandmother standing by her baby brother’s crib, smiling and offering words of encouragement.
What stunned me most was the vivid detail in her memory. My daughter described her grandmother’s favorite perfume, the way she tucked her hair back, and even the clothes she often wore. These were things I had never told her, yet she remembered them as if she had experienced the moment herself.
That conversation gave me an unexpected sense of peace. My daughter’s words reminded me that love doesn’t simply disappear—it lingers and finds ways to stay present in our lives. Even though my mom wasn’t physically there to hold my son, her spirit and love still touched him through that memory. It was a powerful reminder that the bonds we share with those we love can outlast time and loss.