During the past few months, I’ve been writing stories about my family—about the things we’ve done together, and about what it feels like to live without Christina here physically. As I reflect on these memories and emotions, one thing keeps surfacing: life is full of randomness. There is no master plan.
We all carry goals and dreams—things we hope to accomplish. To reach them, we map out paths in our minds; some of us even write them down as steps or priorities. Those paths help us stay focused. But in my experience, execution never happens in a vacuum. It unfolds in the shifting currents of everyday life, shaped—and sometimes redirected—by circumstances beyond our control.
Christina and I had many plans. One recurring dream was to take a long holiday together, just the two of us. We imagined ourselves somewhere warm, stretched out on a white sand beach, letting the sun warm our bodies. Sorry, girls—this dream was just for Mom and me. No kids. That’s how personal and intimate it was meant to be.
It’s still hard for my daughters. They were incredibly close to their mother—closer than most could imagine. Their lives were forming around her, and she was an exceptional mother.
I can’t fill the space Christina left behind, but I can be more present as they continue to grow. What I hope they understand is that they can still learn from her. Christina lives on in their memories. Not as a substitute for my role, but as a source of lasting inspiration—proof that who she was, and what she gave, can continue guiding them toward their own goals.
Tomorrow is Christina’s birthday. It will be the third year we celebrate October 24th without her. I’ll make Chicken Paprikash—her favorite meal. Raquel has been baking a cake since this morning. And I bought a bottle of Tokaji, a classic Hungarian dessert wine, to raise a toast in her memory.
Christina is still undeniably part of our lives.
When I began writing these stories, my goal was simply to record my experience of nearly 30 years with someone I loved deeply. Along the way, I’ve found myself writing about my own journey too—though that was never the plan.
Maybe this post doesn’t need to be neatly tied together. Maybe it’s just me rambling, writing as though in conversation with myself. Or maybe it’s simply my way of making sense of what has happened—one day at a time—as I keep moving forward.
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