Two years ago today, Derek was grilling dinner out on our patio, and I got the call that my Momma had passed away at 5:53 PM.

I remember several things about that night, and one of them is Derek holding me tight as I took the call and then called Dad next door.

I called Dad this morning, and he joined us on our walk in the Hot Rod. You should have seen him strolling her around, showing her off like his little Ferrari with his wrench jingling out of the front of his overalls pocket.

As silly as it may seem, I giggle when I see that wrench in his pocket every time. And I know that wrench would drive my Mom crazy, especially eating out.

Here's the thing about loving someone - we get to miss them. We miss the memories we had, the memories we could have had. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it makes the stories more special and the memories that much more alive.

It makes me weep to know that she will never know Holland Diane, show her around her doll shop and hold her sweet little hand, but I also know she knows her, and on the best days, I see little flickers of my Mom right in her face.

It's the best.

Mom lived her life caring for her family and chasing after dolls. She was loving, brave, and kind, and she was mine.

She'd be proud of us.

She was the best mother, and I am so thankful that she is the beginning of my story.