Year One

<p>Hi. I know I promised I was going to write often. I feel bad that I haven't. So much has happened that I'm not even sure where to start. I know to some people, writing letters to someone who has gone to Heaven may seem silly, or even a bit crazy. But for me, it helps me keep your memory alive and your spirit with me through the good and bad. </p>
<p>So, just before I wrote last, I started dating someone. He came to work for daddy when you got sick and met the entire Hamrick family at our very worst state. I remember Brad bragging about him and daddy being relieved that he fell into the routine and crew at the shop so easily. Little did any of us know that our paths had crossed for a far greater reason than employment. Throughout the spring, we spent some time getting to know one another at work. We'd talk about our past, and what we wanted for our futures. I enjoyed it so much. I had the biggest crush on him, but figured he wasn't interested in dating anyone, much less me. </p>
<p>Then one day it happened. He finally asked me out. We had 5 dates in 6 days. We were so good together. Summer flew by and we grew closer and closer. Fall came and we were gathering firewood and going on little trips. We went to Canaan valley and Senecan rocks. We drove to Pittsburgh to see Mikey Wax in concert. Even though I'm not sure either of us knew it, we were falling in love a little at a time. We spent the holidays with our families together as a couple and decided to get married at midnight on new years eve. We stood in your home, in front of your hallmark covered tree, surrounded by your spirit as Daddy pronounced us man and wife. Our midnight kiss was our first kiss as Mr. And Mrs. Taylor and it was perfect. </p>
<p>We've spent the last several weeks working hard on the house. We've completely remodeled the living room, the bedroom and the back room...which is now my "woman cave" and where I'm writing from right now. I've never worked so hard or felt more of a sense of accomplishment than I do when I see our home.

Daddy is doing well. Things are getting easier and he's adapting to living on his own. It has to be scary. I remember the first time I lived alone. Everything is weird at first. But he's strong. You know this. You'd be proud.

We still miss you. Its been a year and 4 days. So much has changed. We've changed. We hope you can see us. And that you're happy with how we're doing. I hope heaven is everything we dream. I love you.

B.

Fifty two.

Tomorrow is your birthday. It's the first one since you left. We're headed to the races to celebrate your life. I know we're supposed to spend the weekend remembering all the fun we had while you were living but the pain of missing you is unbearable.

It's been six months since we said goodbye and I still have days that feel like it's all just a bad dream. Daddy's doing better these days and I feel like I'm letting everyone down. It seems like just when things are settling down and returning to some sense of normalcy, I'm finding it harder and harder to maintain. I feel as though I've been holding it together for months and that it's finally catching up with me. I've had more breakdowns and shed more tears in the last 2 weeks than I've had since the first weeks after the funeral. I try to allow myself the grief and not be angry with myself for feeling... but it's hard.

I remember the strong willed woman you were. I see it in all of us. I see your temper flare up in Brother and in myself. Twice this week someone has said, "You sound just like your mother." There's no greater honor for me.

As we remember your life, I wish you could know how much we still miss you. Your faithfulness to your family and devotion to your mission as a wife and mother will forever be unmatched. You taught us how to love and live with No Regrets. Because of your life, I know I can cry tonight and carry on tomorrow.

Happy Birthday, Momma.

All my love,

B

I can finally breathe

I sit down tonight and reflect over the last several weeks. Sometimes it seems like you just left yesterday and others - it seems like it's been years. In reality, it's been 73 days.

I can't even begin to explain to someone who hasn't experienced this just how much it truly hurts. My heart knows you're so much better off and that you wouldn't come back if you were given the option. But knowing that doesn't make me miss you any less. I get mad sometimes. I honestly spend more time mad that you're gone than I do sad right now. I remind myself that you lost your mother when you were only seven. The days when I feel as though I've been cheated - I remind myself that I had nearly three decades of the most wonderful relationship with you. I was blessed to call you my mother.

So much has happened since you left and I've wanted to write on so many occasions. I just haven't had the energy or the ability to put words to page without breaking down. So tonight, as Mother's Day draws near, I thought I'd reminisce about all the things that have happened since that day in February.

Firstly, your service was beautiful. I hope God let you peek over the edge of Heaven to see how many people came to celebrate your life. The flowers were beautiful and they made the church smell so good. Nearly 300 people flooded in and out of the church to honor your legacy. I've never felt such support and comfort from humans and such grace from God. I had friends come from all over. Treana came from South Carolina. Holly, Markie, and Joel came from Kentucky. Eric came from Morgantown. Elana, Shane, and Kaden came from Charleston. So many local friends and family came as well. I couldn't have made it through that weekend without them. We laughed and we cried. We shared stories about you and talked about just how precious and fragile life and relationships truly are.

After dinner, the Connor kids, my Kentucky boys and my Carolina girl helped me load up all the beautiful flowers from the church. I will never forget how it felt when the last flower was loaded and I stood alone at your casket. The sorrow enveloped me and in that moment - I didn't think I could go on. One by one, my friends filed into the church, gathered around me, and wept with me. As long as I live, I will never forget the strength I've borrowed from my friends and family in these weeks.

After the services were all over, the friends all gone, and the food all eaten, we attempted to start out living what would be our new reality. I moved out of my house and Dawn and the boys moved in. We worked so hard in the days immediately following your passing. I still think we haven't gotten it all sorted out. But we do a little each week. We talk about you a lot.

My birthday was hard. I cancelled my party when you left but Daddy thought you'd want me to go ahead with it. Mikey Wax was so gracious and wonderful (and totally adorable.) We had a great turnout. The cake was amazing. Mikey sang "Goodbye Too Soon" for you. I knew you'd be happy that we celebrated and it was nice to have a break in the clouds, if even for a moment. My actual birthday was so, so hard. I woke up thinking about you and how unfair it was that I was turning 30 without you. I cried a lot that day. Daddy and I tried to have dinner and go shopping...but we spent most of the evening just sad. I know you'd be mad at us for moping, but sometimes we just can't help it.

I changed doctors. My new doctor took me off the blood thinner meds and told me I could go back to normal life. The first call I made was to Kate Cook. I gave her some ideas and asked her to create a memorial tattoo for my shoulder. On April 4, I sat for my first session. When I saw the drawings, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I've sat for 2 grueling sessions and have 1 more left before it's 100% complete. The piece is a true work of art and I feel as though it's a fitting tribute to your life and legacy. I bet I look at it 50 times a day. Every time I'm reminded of your strength, your love, and your struggles.

Melissa, Dawn, all the kids, and I went to Pittsburgh to the Museum of Natural History. You would have loved every second of it. I bought Nikki a journal and encouraged her to write you letters, too. She's growing up so fast. They are the coolest kids. You'd be proud of them.

Daddy and I are playing music. Tomorrow is our first show. I'm so scared and I wish you were here. You were always our biggest fan - no matter what we were doing. From Brad's days in the band, to my singing in contests to Daddy playing his guitar under the bright lights... you were always our head cheerleader. I'll miss that tomorrow.

I love you so much. I miss you more than anyone can realize. We're trying hard. Trying to adjust to this new reality and trying to take care of each other. I hope you're enjoying Heaven. I'm so glad you've been granted the peace you were never afforded on this earth.

Enjoy your first Mother's Day with your Mommy in 45 years. That's gotta be something. I bet you're the two prettiest gals up there.

Preface

I'm writing this for so many reasons.

You've been my inspiration for as long as I have memories. You were, without question, the strongest, most amazing woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You touched so many lives and never realized it. I hope that somehow you're able to know now just how many people you affected during your too-short life here on Earth and just what a void has been left in our lives.

You always said I should write a book. I never had anything I felt important enough to share. Now I have a purpose and a subject about which I'm so deeply passionate. I want the world to know your story. And I want them to know just how much I miss you. I hope I made you proud while you were here and I hope you're able to take a break from the beauty of Heaven sometimes and smile down on us.

No Regrets.

Baby Chelle.