A Sea of Blue & A Pair of Boots
🌼 Date: Saturday, May 2, 2026
⚡ Energy: Heavy, reflective, and heart full
💓 Status: Showing up, remembering, feeling everything
🥰 Outlook: Holding onto the good while making sense of the hard
Today we attended a celebration of life for one of the kids who practically grew up alongside our son.
I’m not going to go into details, because some things feel better left protected.
But I will say this…
He used to say he didn’t have many friends.
Standing there today, surrounded by hundreds of people his age, I can confidently say he was wrong.
There were easily over 300 people who showed up.
Three hundred.
That’s not just a crowd… that’s a life that mattered.
The outpouring of love was everywhere.
Stories being shared.
Memories being passed around.
Tears, hugs, laughter… all mixed together in that way only these kinds of gatherings can hold.
The good stuff.
The real stuff.
We were asked not to wear black, but to wear something colorful — and blue was his favorite color.
You should have seen it.
A sea of blue.
Everywhere you looked, people showed up in his color, in his honor, carrying a piece of him with them.
And I just hope… wherever he is… he can see it.
I hope he knows how many lives he touched.
Because even the smallest moments — the little things we say or do — can leave a mark on someone that we may never fully understand.
There’s something else that stayed with me today.
He had more than one mom in his life.
And without getting into details, life wasn’t always simple or easy for him growing up. Which is probably why he spent so much time at our house over the years.
All of the kids knew our home was a safe place.
A place to land.
A place to be loud, or quiet, or just be.
And somewhere along the way, I became Momma Day.
Or Mrs. Day.
Or just… Mom.
On Saturday, as we walked around the park, I was getting hugged left and right. Everywhere I turned I heard, “Momma Day!” or “Mrs. Day!”
And while part of me felt an overwhelming sense of pride and love, there was another part that felt something deeper.
Something heavier.
Because my momma heart has already been shattered once.
Almost four years ago, when we lost our son, I learned a kind of pain that changes you forever. And standing there, I shared that understanding with his mom—the kind that doesn’t need many words.
I told her I will always be here.
To listen.
To sit.
To hold space for whatever she needs.
Because some pain… you don’t just “get over.”
You learn how to carry it.
But standing there surrounded by all those kids, something else hit me too.
A sense of responsibility.
A need to protect.
A quiet, impossible wish.
Lord, please let me be the one to take this pain for the whole team of mothers out there.
Because no one should ever have to live through this kind of excruciating, heartbreaking, numbing pain.
And yet… here we all are.
Still gathering.
Still showing up.
Still trying to make sense of something that will never fully make sense.
And somehow, even through all of this…
Our house is still full.
Kids coming over.
Sitting, talking, processing.
Trying to find their way through something this big.
And I am so incredibly honored…
To still be that home.
And then…
As we were leaving, I saw them.
His boots.
Sitting by the door.
Those same boots I used to tease him about… calling them his “clown shoes” because of how big they looked.
Just sitting there.
Like he had kicked them off for a minute.
Like he’d be right back to slip them on.
And that’s the moment that broke me.
Because it makes you stop and think…
About life.
About time.
About how quickly everything can change.
Why does it always feel like the good ones are taken too soon?
I don’t have an answer for that.
But I do know this…
If today showed anything, it’s that he was loved.
Deeply.
Widely.
And in ways he may not have even realized.
And maybe that’s what matters most.
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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time
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