It was just a couple of months ago when we got the call about Kyle’s Aunt Mary passing away. It already had been one of those weeks when you feel like you need to just stop, take a breath.

I’d been fighting off illness, my body willing me to stop, but obligations kept me going.

And so as we drive to Mary’s wake, a priority in an already busy week, we explain to the kids about death once again. How Mary’s body will be there, but that she’s in heaven now. They sit in the back and nod, appearing to understand.

Not all, but many of the cousins.

As we walk into the church, we’re immediately greeted by familiar faces. Aunts. Cousins. Family. These people who’ve been together and lived together and created what has now become a rather large group of people.

Our people. Who hug big and laugh loud. Who smile and encourage you. Who look you in the eye and tell you how much their mother loved you. Who aren’t afraid to shed tears and share stories. I tell Kyle as we drive home, “Your cousins are so kind.” Authentic. And I am humbled by their love. It's a mirrored reflection of their own mother’s love over the years.