A Day of Remembrance: Honoring My Mom, Her Brothers, and Their Legacy

Today is a bittersweet day. My mom would’ve turned 63 today, and her younger brother should be celebrating his 60th birthday—both on May 7. Their older brother, who would’ve been 65 earlier this year, is also deeply missed. The weight of this day, as special as it could have been, is overshadowed by grief because they are all in heaven now, gone too soon due to the cruel grip of myotonic muscular dystrophy.

Myotonic muscular dystrophy, a disease that robbed them of so much, continues to haunt us even though they’ve passed. It wasn’t just the physical toll it took—it was the emotional and mental drain. This disease made them apathetic, pulling the brightness from their spirits. It brought terrifying health scares and challenges they never asked for, creating a slow, painful transformation that stole pieces of their lives.

Over time, the disease altered not just their bodies but their relationships. Their love for life, their joy, their vitality—all slowly faded away, leaving them to struggle with a life they never could have imagined. And then, just like that, it took them away completely, leaving a hole that can never be filled.

As I sit here remembering the birthdays that should’ve been, I’m reminded of how deeply unfair this all is. My mom and her brothers never had the chance to live the full lives they deserved. They should’ve been able to grow older, to celebrate milestones, to bask in the beauty of their lives, surrounded by family and the love that would’ve only deepened with time. Instead, they were forced to battle a relentless, unforgiving disease. It’s a cruel injustice, and I wish more than anything that they could’ve had the chance to thrive.

But as much as I wish for a different reality, I also choose to honor their memory. Their lives were filled with resilience, love, and determination—even as the disease tried to take everything from them. Their spirit still lives on in the stories we share, in the laughter of the children they left behind, and in the lessons they taught us about strength, love, and the importance of family.

So, today, as I think of my mom and her brothers—those beautiful souls who deserved more—I hold onto the love they gave us. I carry their memories in my heart, even as the grief lingers. It’s not fair, but I’ve learned to hold both the pain and the love together. In honoring them, I continue to move forward, not forgetting, but carrying their legacy with me always.

Today, I remember them, and I grieve for what should’ve been. But I also celebrate who they were and the impact they had, and I will never stop loving them.