When I Think of Her

When I think of her, I see light — not the kind that fades when the sun sets, but the kind that stays … glowing steady in the corners of my heart.
My mother was an awesome woman. Her voice could calm storms. Her prayers could lift a soul. Her love could fill a room and make you forget the pain outside the door.

Now that she’s gone, the world feels quieter. Mornings feel a little emptier without her voice or her laughter. But her presence still lingers — in the way I cook, in the way I care for my family, in the way I keep pushing even when life tries to hold me down.

When I think of her, I remember strength — not the loud kind, but the quiet kind that never wavered. She carried herself with grace even when life gave her reasons to fall apart. She worked hard, prayed harder, and always made a way out of no way. She was the definition of grace under pressure — and that’s the part of her I carry every single day.

That’s what The Climb is about. It’s about picking up what she left behind — her faith, her fire, her love — and carrying it forward. It’s about turning grief into fuel. She taught me that when life knocks you down, you get back up. You don’t stay broken. You rise.

Even now, as I walk through my own storms, I feel her pushing me up that hill. Her strength flows through me like a pulse I can’t see but can always feel. Her faith reminds me that the climb doesn’t end until you reach the top — and then you keep climbing for the ones who can’t.

I miss her every day. Some moments I still break, but I rise because that’s what she taught me to do. Every step I take, every dream I chase, every word I write — it’s all for her. Because her story didn’t end when she passed. It lives through me, through my family, through The Climb.

When I think of her … I don’t just remember. I continue her climb.

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✨ Dedication
For my mother — the light that still guides my steps up The Climb.