Yesterday we lost my grandmother. A woman whose life I could never rightfully honor in one blog post, through one story/message, or in the character counts allotted by social media accounts.

Too soon to write? No. My Meema loved words. She was an avid reader. In fact, she could read a book in one day/night. It often amazed me, as I would typically gift her a book for her birthday or Christmas, and laughed when she would call me the following day to tell me how good it was. “Seriously? You read that already?” I would ask every time.

She loved my Blog. Often I would send a transcript of a piece, usually the really personal ones, and she would review them through Facebook messenger before I posted to go live. It is in these somber moments that I am so glad I picked up my laptop many years ago and decided to share my life with you. As writing is therapy for me, it has fruitfully provided me with a digital collection of moments between her and I that I can keep forever.

Every morning my husband provides a subconscious love language gesture. He brings me my coffee in bed. Every morning. He could be running late for work – coffee. He could really dislike me for words the evening before or a martial spat – coffee. It is a steady routine that I note and don’t take for granted. This morning was the same.

Although, on this morning I laid in bed, staring out the window as the morning sun arose, the windows open from this unseasonably warm weather, listening to the birds chirping as a new day began, and feeling the deepest of sadness, questioning whether to get up or just continue to lay there in silence.

“Have courage and be kind.”

Of all the mugs that I own, which are stacked on top of each other, and shoved into the kitchen cabinet, this one made its way to me. “Have courage and be kind.” I smiled and thought of her.

I have always said that the most beautiful thing in this life is that on our darkest of days, the moments we find ourselves in the Valley, the sun still rises. God willing, our eyes open and gift us another day on this Earth the most powerful thing each of us will do every day is to sit up, place our feet on the ground and RISE. We rise up. We stand. We pick ourselves up and live. When we feel like giving up, when we want to wallow in sadness, when we can’t go on, when we question every single thing swirling around us, we wake up and we rise. This simple act that we overlook every day is our resilience in this life. It is our courage to go on.

So I rose.

She was the kindest soul I have ever known. She was selfless, and throughout her years she gave and she sacrificed. Oh, the stories of her acts of kindness could write a novel. Something we talked about. Knowing my love for writing and hers for reading, she would always share her sentiments behind a story of her life. Whenever someone did her wrong, her way of handling the situation was to love a little bit stronger. I see my mother in her, and I see how much every one of us could honor her by being kinder to others and ourselves.

Today hurts. Tomorrow will hurt. Forever without her is going to hurt.

But I can honor her today by having the courage and being kind.