August 14, 2026
Dearly beloved and longed-for daughter,
This past Saturday began a week of celebrating my 85th year on this earth. My adult children and their spouses gathered to celebrate my son Paul’s and my birthdays. My first birthday since you left this world on November 14, 2025. My heart aches, and I wish that you could have been healed and stayed here. We all miss you and now carry your sweet, tender presence in our hearts.
This week has continued to be a week of celebrating with friends and family. I turned eighty-five this year. I am thankful that you were living with me when you were diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. As your mother, I was so privileged to care for you in our home. Throughout the celebrations, my thoughts were on you, Angela, reminding me that you were now in a better place. Now you have no pain. You’re free to walk without falling and breathe without oxygen. You have no more violent and continuous coughing. And you can hear without reading lips, which you did so well.
I imagine by now you have seen Aunt Marilyn, Uncle Budzy, and Uncle Joe. You remember that dream you had several weeks before you left this world and slipped into eternity? They were fixing up an old RV. Others you’ve more than likely reunited with are your dad, Stan Aelmore; your step-mom, Shirley Aelmore; and Alan Bell, your step-dad. Then your Grandparents, Harry and Mary Louise Ledell, and Oscar and Beulah Aelmore. Your Aunt Julia and Aunt Delores. What a time of celebration you must have experienced. What joy and peace must fill your heart.
Your sister Denise dreamed that you now have your own apartment and a new SUV. I wonder if it isn’t the blue one that you always wanted. She said that when she asked who should drive, you said, “I like to drive.”
Remembering all these things, Angela, I think of you every day. Sometimes I go into your room where it seems that your sweet presence still lingers. A quiet peace envelops the room. Most of your clothes are being worn by your older sister, Marilyn. Another sweet reminder that your love of our beautiful family is still alive. As you wished, Julia has most of your games, many of those the two of you played together.
Your room is a reminder of the life you lived and the love that you gave. It has become a sanctuary of peacefulness. So many days turn into weeks, and weeks have turned into nine months since I stood by your bedside, holding your hand. At your last breath, you opened your right eye as if saying goodbye until we meet again. That moment I will never forget. You were such a brave daughter. Never complaining and striving every day to navigate life while fighting the terrible disease of cancer. I miss you, Angela Suzanne. Until we meet again. I will carry you with me.
Love forever & always, Mom
Rekindling the Flame 