Every December 20th, my mother and I shared a quiet tradition that never failed us. We would buy the largest Hershey’s milk chocolate bar we could find, grab two cups of coffee, and sit on the same weathered bench beneath an old oak tree in the park. No matter how busy life became or how cold the air felt, we showed up. That ritual was our way of grounding ourselves before the holidays, a reminder that consistency and presence mattered more than gifts or decorations. When my mother passed away from cancer in October, the world felt unrecognizable. As December approached, I avoided the park, the grocery store, and anything that reminded me of what I had lost. But I had made her a promise—one she asked for in a quiet hospital room—that when the time came, I would follow my heart and do what I believed was right.Continue reading…
