Hey beautiful souls! Today we're talking about love, loss, and the people who shape us in ways we don't fully understand until they're gone...

Y'all, July 4th hits different now. Not just because of the fireworks, the barbecues, or the red-white-and-blue everything... but because it's my Aunt Rose's birthday. And honey, she's been gone since 2020, but her spirit is so loud in my life that sometimes I forget she's not just a phone call away.

Let me tell you about the woman who believed I was smarter than Google and why her absence still makes my heart skip beats during what's supposed to be a celebration.

The Phone Call That Changed Everything

Picture this: Me, standing in the kitchen in 2020, holding news that felt too heavy for my hands. Aunt Rose: my Mom's big sister, her best friend, her daily conversation partner, her PERSON, was gone.

I had to be the one to tell my mama. The crazy thing is, my brother and I had already planned for me to surprise her, little did we know, it was going to be with this kind of news. 

Y'all know how your parents have that one person who's woven into every single day of their existence? That person they call when they see something funny on Channel 2, when they need to process the day, when they just need to hear a familiar voice? That was Aunt Rose for my Mama.

When I told her, she said it with such finality, such disbelief: "Not my Rose!" 💔

I have never felt more helpless in my entire life. Because how do you comfort someone who's losing their daily heartbeat? How do you hold space for grief that big? All I could do was wrap my arms around her and let her cry into my chest in the longest hug of our lives.

In that moment, I realized that some losses don't just take a person: they reshape the entire landscape of how someone moves through their days.

Who Aunt Rose Was (And Why She Was Everything)

But let me tell you who my Aunt Rose really was, because she deserves her flowers... even if I'm giving them to her through tears and memories.

Aunt Rose was MY person, too. You know how families work... sometimes you need someone to complain TO about the people you love most. 😂 Well, when I needed to vent about my Mama (her sister/best friend), Aunt Rose was my safe space. She'd listen, laugh, and somehow always help me see my Mama's heart even when I was feeling some type of way about her actions.

And honey, the woman had me on speed dial for the most random things. She'd call me up: "Guh, where is your Maw?" Because she knew that if anybody knew where my Mama was at any given moment, it was me. We talked all day long too, so I was basically the family GPS tracker for my own Mother. 😂

But my favorite Aunt Rose moments? When she'd call me because she needed to know something ANYTHING and she'd say, "You're smart, you know this, I don't need Google, I'm calling Nicki..."

Y'ALL. Do you understand the power in that statement? This woman believed in my intelligence so much that she bypassed the entire internet to call ME. She gave me the confidence to believe I was as smart as Google, and you better believe that whatever she needed to know, I was going to deliver. Every. Single. Time.

She made me feel like I had superpowers.

The Little Things That Made Us Us

We bonded over the most beautiful, simple things. Nail polish, of all things. We'd share brands that helped our nails grow, compare colors, talk about which formulas worked best. Such a small thing, but it was OUR thing.

Every time I'd ask how she was doing, she had this signature response: "Fairly well...fairly well..." And we would both crack up laughing. It became our little inside joke, this perfectly Rose way of saying she was doing okay without being dramatic about it.

These might sound like tiny details, but they're everything. They're the threads that weave people into the fabric of your daily life. They're what makes someone irreplaceable.

When Holidays Become Heavy

Here's what nobody prepares you for about grief: it doesn't just show up on the obvious days. It crashes your parties. It sits at your holiday table. It makes fireworks feel bittersweet because you remember how much someone loved them.

July 4th used to be about celebration, freedom, independence. Now it's also about missing Aunt Rose's excitement over fireworks, her birthday energy, the way she'd probably call me to see if I was watching the same display she was or MSNBC. 😂

Grief has this way of reshaping holidays. Not ruining them, exactly, but adding layers of meaning you weren't expecting. Independence Day now means independence from the physical presence of people we love, but NOT independence from their impact on our lives.

And honestly? I'm learning to be okay with holidays feeling different now. I'm learning that missing someone fiercely can coexist with celebrating fully.

The Aunt Rose Effect: How Some People Just Get It

Some people have this gift, they make you feel SEEN in a way that changes how you see yourself. Aunt Rose was that person for me. She didn't just love me; she believed in me in ways that shaped my confidence.

When she said I was smart enough to replace Google, she wasn't just being sweet. She was giving me permission to trust my own knowledge, to believe in my own capabilities, to see myself as a resource and not just someone who needed resources.

That's the Aunt Rose effect: she had this ability to make people feel valuable, needed, important. She could make you feel like you were somebody's favorite person just by the way she said your name.

Now that she's gone, I carry that with me. When I'm problem-solving for friends, when I'm being the person people call when they can't figure something out...that's Aunt Rose living through me.

The Ripple Effect of Unconditional Love

Here's what I'm learning about losing someone who believed in you that hard: their belief doesn't die with them. It becomes part of your DNA.

Every time I help someone, every time I trust my instincts, every time I answer a question with confidence instead of self-doubt... that's Aunt Rose's voice in my head saying, "You're smart, you know this."

She loved me in a way that made me love myself more. And even though she's gone, that love is still working. It's still shaping how I move through the world, how I show up for other people, how I see my own worth.

That's the thing about people who really love us, they don't just love us in the moment. They love us in a way that teaches us how to love ourselves long after they're gone.

Navigating Family Dynamics After Loss

Losing Aunt Rose didn't just leave a Rose-shaped hole in our family: it changed the entire ecosystem. My mama lost her daily conversation partner, her sounding board, her sister-friend. The phone calls that used to punctuate her days with laughter and connection just... stopped. She was forever changed by that. 

As her daughter, I found myself trying to fill spaces I couldn't possibly fill. Because I'm not Aunt Rose. I couldn't replace that specific type of love, that particular brand of understanding, that irreplaceable dynamic.

What I can do is honor what Aunt Rose brought to our family by trying to bring some of that same energy... the belief in people, the willingness to be someone's safe space, the gift of making people feel seen and valued.

But I'm also learning that it's okay that some spaces stay empty. Some relationships are so unique that they can't be replicated, only remembered and celebrated.

Finding Aunt Rose in the Everyday

The beautiful thing about people who love us well is that they leave pieces of themselves everywhere. I find Aunt Rose in:

Every time I choose to believe in someone's intelligence over their doubt.

Every nail polish aisle I walk down (and I always think of her when I'm picking colors).

Every time someone calls me with a random question and trusts me to have the answer.

Every moment I choose to be someone's safe space to vent about family.  

Every time I say "fairly well" and smile...

She's in my voice when I'm encouraging someone. She's in my confidence when I trust my own knowledge. She's in my heart when I choose to love people in ways that make them feel valuable.

The Lessons She Left Behind

Aunt Rose taught me that love isn't just about the big moments... it's about showing up consistently in the small ones. It's about being the person someone can call when they need to find their Mama. It's about believing in people so hard that they start believing in themselves.

She taught me that being someone's person is a privilege and a responsibility. When someone trusts you with their complaints, their questions, their random thoughts...that's sacred space.

She taught me that laughter can coexist with everything. Even "fairly well" can be funny when it's said with love.

Most importantly, she taught me that the way we make people feel becomes part of who they are forever. The confidence she gave me, the value she saw in me, the way she made me feel smart and capable...that's not gone just because she is.

Missing Her Fireworks

This July 4th, I'll be watching fireworks (from my TV, 'cause nope...if you know, you know...😂) and thinking about Aunt Rose. I'll be missing her excitement, her birthday energy, the way she would have called to compare what she was seeing with what I was seeing.

But I'll also be celebrating the ways she's still here. In my confidence. In my willingness to help people. In my belief that everyone deserves to feel as smart and valuable as she made me feel.

I'll be raising my glass to a woman who loved so well that her love is still working years after she's gone.

To All the Aunt Roses Out There 🌹

If you have an Aunt Rose in your life - that person who believes in you harder than you believe in yourself, who makes you feel like you're somebody's favorite, who calls you instead of Google: please tell them today. Tell them how they make you feel. Tell them how their belief in you changes how you see yourself.

And if you've lost your Aunt Rose, know that their love doesn't end just because their physical presence does. The confidence they gave you, the way they made you feel seen, that's yours forever.

The people who love us well leave fingerprints on our souls that never fade.

Raises Glass 🥂

So here's to you, Aunt Rose. Here's to the woman who made me feel smarter than Google, who trusted me with her complaints about your sister, who could make "fairly well" sound like the funniest thing in the world.

Here's to your fireworks, your nail polish recommendations, your ability to make everyone feel like somebody special.

Here's to the love that doesn't end, the lessons that keep teaching, the laughter that echoes even in the silence.

This one's for you, Auntie! 🥂

Happy birthday in heaven. Keep being fairly well up there.

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Tell me, beautiful souls: Who is your Aunt Rose? Who's the person in your life who makes you feel seen, valued, and believed in? If they're still here, call them today. If they're gone, share a memory that makes you smile. Let's honor the people who love us well by recognizing their gifts while we can.

And if you're navigating grief during what's supposed to be celebration time, know that you're not alone. It's okay for holidays to feel different. It's okay to miss people fiercely while still finding reasons to celebrate. Grief and joy can dance together.

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P.S.  Every time someone believes in me now, every time I trust my own intelligence, every time I help a stranger with confidence instead of doubt, or go to Walmart and stay waaaay longer than I need to, that's Aunt Rose still working her magic. The love of good people never really leaves us. It just transforms into who we become.