To my mom, on your first Christmas in heaven: I miss you. I miss the smell when I walk into your house during Christmas time. It was always sauce or chicken cutlets with a hint of some sort of fried shrimp or peppery antipast. I miss the way you needed a cigarette after you finished each part of your seven course menu. I miss the way the presents started to fill up in the living room before the tree even went up. I miss the Christmas tree and all of your pastel ornaments that didn’t really scream Christmas to me, but this year I’ll surely snag one off your tree, the rocking horse, the one I always hung, to put on my own. I miss the way your eyes lit up when we brought presents to your house because we just couldn’t wait til the 25th to give them to you. I miss the way you rummaged through them like a little girl and couldn’t even wait to see what was inside while guessing exactly what was inside upon touching it. I miss you wearing your pajama pants and dads shirts up until it was time to eat and then you’d go put on one of your adorable outfits just in time for 5 o’clock. I miss the way we’d bust out into any song and sing together until we started laughing. I miss the millions of little things that all added up to making me still feel like I was an only child with everything I ever asked for. I miss when the card I wrote you would make you cry. It would make me secretly happy inside, not to see you in actual tears but to know you understood through my words how important you are to me, how very special you are and I always wanted the special days to be even better for you because of all the ways you always made everyone else feel special. I’m happy I always told you how much I loved you. And then when I moved out when we’d text about how much we missed eachother and how you’d say “I miss your beautiful face in the morning.” You’re one of the only ones who ever loved when I sang at the top of my lungs, and I know you’re with me now when I’m singing to you in my house or in my car because truth is, every time I sing I sing for you. I miss your hands, the way your jewelry sparkled on your wrists. How your hands always looked tan, and your silver rings were constantly clean and nails were always manicured. I miss your obsession with makeup and the way you always loved the newest urban decay pallets we’d get you for Christmas, hoping you didn’t already buy them for yourself. I loved when you wore makeup and how beautiful your skin always looked. I miss the scent of your perfume mixed with your laundry detergent and the faintest hint of hairspray in your hair. I miss the sound of your voice and the way your laugh told me the exact mood you were in. I miss your dirty jokes, and how I could talk to you about anything. I miss driving to your house and talking on the phone with you the whole way there. I miss the way you fixed my mental breakdowns simply by agreeing with me and talking shit with me and saying exactly what I wanted and needed to hear. I miss the millions of emojis in every text you ever sent. I miss your hair. Your big, shiny black Jersey hair. I miss coloring it and cutting it and having you in my chair the week before Christmas and sharing you with my professional life. I know how proud of me you were. I miss ordering your dunkin order at the end of mine, medium hot tea with two splendas and skim. I miss going out to the bar with you. I miss you telling me what song you wanted me to sing, and miss hearing you belt out black velvet or I feel lucky. I miss being constantly hit on because everyone was attracted to our table mainly because of how gorgeous you were. I miss you riding shotgun in my car. I even miss carting your ass around and feel a pang of guilt every time I remember you yelling at me for saying that one Monday afternoon. I miss our Mondays together. I miss the way you love Mav. I miss the way I know you would love him today. When he says “privateseats” instead of privacy, I know you’re cackling about it every time he says something funny and I miss you when that happens because you enjoy things exactly like I do, or I enjoy them exactly like you would. I just miss you in everything I do. I miss you in everything you miss. I miss you in everything I miss. Out of all the presents in this world I would give anything for one more Christmas morning with you. One more Christmas hour with you. One more salami and provolone rolled up on Italian bread stuck in my face saying oh c’mon eat it! One more conversation, kiss, hug, text, Christmas card. I hope that wherever you are you spend a lot of time with me. With dad Allie and Chris. I know you talk to Mav because he tells me almost every day. I hope you know that Christmas will never be what it once was now that you’re not here as the very glue that held us all together. It’s all becoming clear that you were always the strong one, the one with the truest and rarest set of family values and I just thank you for instilling your strength, beauty and grace inside all of us. My biggest comfort is being a mother and having my siblings and father when I need them the most. All the greatest lessons I’ve learned from you. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve ever done for me and continue to teach me now that you’re “gone.” I hope I am making you proud. And I hope that you visit this Christmas. We would all love to see you 👑✨ I always used to write in your cards how you were my real life guardian angel, and I know you still are. Merry Christmas Mama, I love you more.