05/26/2026
Sixteen years ago today, I held my grandmother, Ramona “MoMo” Arsenault, as she took her last breath after a battle with lung and brain cancer. Five days before, she waited with every ounce of strength she had left just to meet Sophie. And somehow, I believe she knew she could finally let go once she did.
MoMo was the greatest woman I’ve ever known. Not because she had money or status, but because she had integrity. Real integrity. The kind that can’t be bought, taught, or faked. She grew up poor but died richer than most people ever will — rich in love, loyalty, resilience, honesty, and grace. She loved my grandfather fiercely every single day of her life until her last breath. She was beautiful without ever fully realizing it, and she carried herself with a quiet strength that shaped generations around her.
At 25, I didn’t fully understand how precious time really was. I thought there would always be more of it.
This day also carries another ache. It marks the anniversary of losing my brother, Alex. He was only 30 years old. Addiction took him, but it never took his heart. He was honest about his struggles. He tried so hard. He never stole from me, never manipulated me, never stopped loving people through his pain. I carry guilt sometimes because our lives were not handed the same opportunities, and I wish more than anything he could have had a softer path. He deserved more time. More peace. More chances.
Today hurts in two different ways.
But when I think of them both, I think about love. Real love. The kind that leaves fingerprints on your soul forever.
I hope somehow they know they are still spoken about, still missed, still deeply loved.
Some anniversaries don’t get easier you just learn how to carry them while still moving forward. 🌅🤍
