Deep in my Heart

Time has a way of softening the sharp edges of grief, but it never erases the memories. Instead, it gives us space to return to them – to the lessons quietly taught, the values lived out daily, and the love that never seemed to run out. This day is not only about loss; it is about remembering a life shaped by care, service, and faith.

One of the most intriguing truths about my parents’ story still gives me pause. The day my father was laid to rest, a moment heavy with sorrow, also happened to be my mother’s birthday. Two emotions colliding in a single day. Grief and gratitude. Farewell and celebration. It’s one of those moments that reminds you how little control we really have, and how deeply mysterious God’s timing can be.

Mum carried that moment with quiet strength.

She was a woman deeply involved in the Women’s Fellowship Group, always present, always serving, always giving. Fellowship wasn’t just an activity for her; it was an extension of who she was. Community mattered. Faith mattered. People mattered. In gatherings large and small, she found purpose in being there: listening, supporting, encouraging. In many ways, those fellowship halls were another home.

I often think about how love shows itself not in grand gestures, but in consistency. Mum showed up. Again and again. As a mother. As a grandmother. As a woman of faith. As someone who understood that care, offered quietly and faithfully, leaves a lasting mark.

Years on, the ache of missing them remains but so does the gratitude. Gratitude for having been loved so completely. Gratitude for lessons that continue to guide us long after they are gone. Gratitude for memories that surface unexpectedly and remind us that love doesn’t end; it simply changes form.

Rest in peace, Mum and Dad.

You are remembered, not just today, but in the lives you shaped, the values you passed on, and the love that continues to carry us forward.