Hey everyone — and I mean everyone on this whole planet, the folks at Area 51, and even those mysterious beings in other universes that I haven’t even heard of yet — happy belated Easter! Yes, I’m a little late, but honestly, how can you ever really be late to talk about Easter when it’s a day that’s supposed to be about love, renewal, and, well… chocolate? 

This year, Easter hit differently. It was always a joyful occasion for me — a time filled with family, food, and those little moments that make life worth living. But this year, it was tinged with a bittersweet kind of emotion I wasn’t quite prepared for. It’s been over a year and a couple of months since my mother-in-law left us on Easter Sunday, and I’ll admit — I still miss her dearly. 

She was a woman of contradictions — extremely book-smart, with degrees stacked up higher than my coffee mug on a Monday morning, and an impeccable fashion sense that made me want to raid her closet (but I didn’t, because I didn’t want to get kicked out of the family). And oh boy, was she crazy — not in a bad way, though. I get accused of being “crazy” all the time, so I guess she and I had that in common. But her craziness was lovable, endearing, and honestly, just part of her charm. 

My mother-in-law was a sweetheart — a genuinely lovable soul who saw the good in everyone, regardless of how many times people did her dirty or screwed her over. She had friends from all walks of life, and she accepted people for who they were, not what they appeared to be on the surface. She’d hold conversations with anyone — no matter their background or their race — for hours. I swear, she could talk to a brick wall and make it feel like a warm hug. 

Every holiday, it was just us — her, her son, and me. Sure, we had other family members, but in our little world, it was us three. She’d find a place for us to eat, tell us where to order food from, and even give me a list of things she wanted so I could go get them. She even taught me how to make Indian rice (which I still mess up sometimes, but hey, it’s the thought that counts). She and I had our disagreements — because, let’s face it, every family does — but we always, always came back together. That’s what family is about, right? 

This Easter, things felt different. Instead of just celebrating with a big dinner and movie night, we found ourselves at her grave site, our hearts heavy but full of love. We brought flowers, and as we placed them down, we talked to her headstone, hoping her spirit was there, rolling her eyes at our attempts to be sentimental and cracking jokes. I could almost hear her voice, reminding us not to take life too seriously, as she often did. 

She was a woman of many languages — I could barely manage two, but she’d switch effortlessly, making me feel like I was in a multilingual sitcom. She made me feel accepted, loved, and like I belonged somewhere — something I’ve always struggled with, especially since I never really knew my own mother. My only connection to her was through her brother, who, to this day, wants nothing to do with me. So, my mother-in-law took on the role of a second mom, filling that void with her warmth and wisdom. 

Her love for movies was legendary. Every single night, she would insist we gather in her bed to watch a movie of her choosing. If I fell asleep, she’d poke me awake with her feet and say, “You’re praying, right?” Classic! She had a particular fondness for Frank Sinatra’s music, often humming his tunes while brewing her morning coffee — and let me tell you, she was a coffee drinker for years! That coffee routine was sacred to her; every single morning, she’d brew a cup, savoring the rich aroma like a fine wine. 

She was the one who told me, “It’s not about how you look, Tina. It’s what’s on your mind that gets you far in life.” And she meant it. Looks fade, but a good heart and a sharp mind? That’s forever. She was a voracious reader, her house resembling a cozy library, and her favorite book? For some bizarre reason, it was a biography of Hitler (we still don’t quite get that one), but her real joy was reading anything and everything she could get her hands on. 

Her love for animals was infectious; she had a way of making every pet feel like they were the most important creature in the world. I can still picture her, cute little cane in hand, waddling around the house like an adorable turtle, stopping to pet every furry friend in her sight. She had a knack for finding the beauty in the mundane, reminding us that life’s little joys are often the most profound. 

This past Easter was filled with emotion for us. The first woman of the house — the movie-loving, Frank Sinatra-adoring, animal-loving, and passive-aggressive queen — left us on an Easter Sunday. Now, Easter takes on a new meaning for us. It’s not just about chocolate eggs and family dinners; it’s a celebration of life and the love we shared with her. 

We spent the day accepting our loss while embracing the beautiful memories we created together. I can still feel her hugs, like warm blankets on a cold day, and hear her laughter ringing through our home. Even when I wanted to scream at her for being friends with people who had wronged her, she’d remind me that it’s not about the disagreements we have but about forgiveness. “Life is too short for grudges, Tina,” she’d say. “You never know when it could be the last time you see someone.” 

Easter now means something different for us. It’s a day to honor life, love, and the beautiful soul we lost but still carry in our hearts. We miss her walking around with her adorable turtle walk, her books, her movies, and her endless love — but we also feel her presence in every laugh, every lesson, and every moment of kindness we share. 

To anyone reading this — if you’ve got someone like her in your life, hold them close. Tell them you love them. Forgive those who’ve hurt you, and cherish the moments you have. Because someday, you’ll look back and realize those moments are all you’ll have left. 

Thanks for reading my long ramble — I guess I needed to get that out. Here’s to celebrating life, love, and the beautiful chaos that is family. And to my mother-in-law — thank you for everything. You’ll always be in my heart, turtle walk and all. 

With love and a little laughter,  

Tina