Keep her picture on the mantel, Tell the stories that you know. Say her name around the table, Teach the little ones who came after she was gone. Celebrate her every birthday, Miss her every Mother's Day. Tell them all the things she taught you— Don't let time erase her name. I never wanted less of her. I never asked you not to care. There was room for every memory. Love was never scarce. Tell the grandkids, "That's your grandma." Show them pictures from before. Tell them how she laughed and loved you, What she valued, what she stood for. Let them feel like they can know her Through the stories that you share. But while you're teaching them to love Someone who isn't there— Don't forget the ones who are. Love was never scarce. There was always more to give. You could cherish those who left you And still treasure those who lived. You didn't have to choose a side, Didn't have to ration hearts. Loving her could never take away From loving who we are. There was room enough for all of us, Room for every prayer. That may be the saddest part— Love was never scarce. You could praise your mother's goodness With your father in the room, Then turn and thank the living man Who carried on when she was gone too soon. You could honor all she gave you And the sacrifices that he made. One didn't have to disappear For one to take her place. No one had to lose For someone else to matter. Love was never scarce. There was always more to give. You could cherish those who left you And still treasure those who lived. You didn't have to choose a side, Didn't have to ration hearts. Loving her could never take away From loving who we are. There was room enough for all of us, Room for every prayer. That may be the saddest part— Love was never scarce. And loving Grandma Debbie Never meant you couldn't see The grandpa standing next to you, Building your own memories. The shop, the tools, the miles traveled, Every ordinary day— A lifetime isn't less important Just because someone stayed. And loving all the family Who still carried Mother's name Never meant your living father Had to stand outside the frame. There was room. There was always room. That's the tragedy— Not that you remembered. Not that you grieved. Not that after all those years You still wished that she could see The lives you built, The children born, The people you'd become. The tragedy was thinking Love for one Required less love for another one. It didn't. It never did. Maybe grief can build a monument So beautiful and tall That everybody gathers 'round it And can't see beyond its walls. And maybe those still breathing Learn to quietly disappear, Because it's hard to compete with memories Perfected through the years. But nobody was competing. Nobody needed to. We could have stood beside her memory And still been loved by you. Love was never scarce. There was enough for everyone. For the mother who had left too soon, The father who lived on. For the families that surrounded you, For the new ones joining there. For every child, grandchild, and even a bonus mother Every history you shared. No one had to be forgotten. No one had to disappear. No one had to stand outside So someone else could be held dear. There was room enough for all of them. There always had been room. Keep her pictures. Tell her stories. Say her name. Please do. Love her always. I never needed you To love her less. I only wish you'd understood— You could have loved us too. Love was never scarce.
