The day her Mama Died

The day her Mama died, a big piece of her died, too. She learned this is a piece she could not fill. It is a piece that could not be replaced by anything, ever.

The day her Mama died she stopped breathing for a moment, too. She wondered how the world around her continued to go on.

The day her Mama died, she began a new life. Her new life was motherless. She felt like an orphan. It was different than before, in the most painful and heartbreaking way.

The day her Mama died she looked around and questioned everything. She questioned her faith, her last words, and every moment she spent away from her. Her questions will never be answered, but she kept asking anyway.

The day her Mama died she was in complete disbelief. She refused to accept this reality but it stayed with her. One day the reality sank in. That day was just as bad as the day her Mama died. She was frozen with heartbreak, confusion, and terror, the day her Mama died. She developed new anxieties and fears she never had before. Some days those new fears were debilitating. 

The day her Mama died, she became an adult. The kind of adult who doesn’t have a mother. It was a different kind of adult than before. 

The day her Mama died she longed for her hugs, her time, and her presence. This longing never went away. 

It stayed with her, but so does her Mama, because . . . 

The day her Mama died she gained the most beautiful angel. 

She can’t see her Mama, but she is there, just as she promised.

The day her Mama died, she looked around and was grateful for all of the people there supported her and helped her pick up the pieces. The people who showed up are her people. She will never forget the ones who showed up; they are special. 

The day her Mama died, she learned that she loved so hard, so deeply, so purely.. she grieved hard because of that beautiful love. 

The day her Mama died, she learned that her Mama loved her beyond measure. She mothered her more beautifully than any story ever written. Her Mama believed in her more than she ever believed in herself. She realized that Her Mama took care of her like she was the most precious cargo on the planet, even as an adult.

The day her Mama died  she realized, without hesitation, that she was the most amazing woman she had ever known and will ever know. 

The day her Mama died she appreciated her more than she ever had, she prayed to have her back. Unfortunately, no prayers could bring her back. No wishes could make her appear. All she has is her memories and her Mama’s beautiful portraits that she hangs on the wall.

I remember you! Memorial Day is everyday...

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A parent's death makes a severe impact on a child, that then affects their own children and their children's children, and so on. First Lieutenant Russo went to UCLA, he was a track and football star. He met his wife Olga at UCLA. After graduation, they married and they started a family. He was killed in action on April 3rd, 1945 on Luzon. His death changed many lives. He left behind a wife and his one year old son. Lieutenant Russo named his son after himself, even though his Father Salvatore offered him a substantial amount of money to name the baby Salvatore after him. Lieutenant Mario Russo chose to name his son Mario after himself, in fear he may never return from war. The name Mario and photographs in a frame, were the only thing Lieutenant Russo could ever give his son. He died a hero yet he left behind loved ones now broken damaged and confused. 

Little did he know that he was leaving behind a legacy as well. His future grandchildren and great grandchildren would never see him, only the photos that hang on their walls. They will only know him through the photos and stories shared by family but he is still so much a part of them. The more I learn about my grandfather Mario from my favorite Uncle Tony, he reminds me of my own children. They have followed in his footsteps in so many ways. The name Mario was a great gift to leave your son, but your family and your legacy was an even greater gift. We will continue to share our photos of our hero with the legacy he left behind. Lieutenant Russo lives on through us all. I just can't imagine how different my life would be if my grandfather was there when my father grew up. I am grateful for the photos and the stories I can share with my babies. Having these photos has taught me to appreciate and savor the past through images. I am thankful for all he has given us; veterans, intelligence, physical and mental strength, athletics, track stars. He now has great great grandchildren who will know and remember their hero through the photographs that hang on the wall, those pictures tell it all.  With all that was given I sit back and watch my own daughters and one with her baby and their sacrifices they give for our country. Always remember .....All gave some, some gave all. So much sacrifice for our freedom. We all have a story to tell through photographs on the wall!

Rhonda Childers is a Military Mom and a portrait photographer in the Bay area and Central Valley, California. It is her dream to make a positive difference in this world by sharing herself and stories while creating and capturing new ones with others. 100 years from now her legacy will live on through photographs and the positive difference she makes in the life of many children.

My sailor girl

My soldier girl

What the cup?

Seriously, I have a coffee obsession. People always wonder, what I'm addicted to more the coffee or the cup? I seriously have a thing for coffee it makes me happy, it brings me comfort. One of my earliest memories as small child is sneaking sips of my mothers coffee (she drank it with cream no sugar) I grew up with coffee, it's my comfort food. Our home is somewhat decorated like a coffee house it's comfortable, “Childers Coffee Café”. This love, OK my addiction for coffee is a little out of control, but whatever gets me through the day. I've acquired quite the collection of coffee cups. Each and everyone of them is very significant to me and has very special meaning, they have become a part of me. As I reflect on the years that have past coffee has been a big part of my life. So honestly I wonder what I am savoring? Is it the coffee, the cup or these coffee moments? What am I holding on to? To me coffee is life or maybe it's just life is like coffee? Let me share with you one of my favorite inspirational coffee stories.

Life is like a Cup of Coffee.

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.

Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.

While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee.

In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.

What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups, and then you began eyeing each other’s cups to see who had the best one.

Now consider this said the professor “Life is like a cup of coffee”,

and life is the coffee, the jobs, money and position in society are the cups.

They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live.

“Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee”.

So Savour the coffee, not the cups.

The happiest people don’t have the best of everything.

They just make the best of everything.

Live simply, Love generously, Speak kindly, Care deeply.

Life is like a Cup of Coffee : Author unknown