This Little Light of Mine

10/17/25

I’m sitting on the corner of the couch at DeDe’s house. There’s a pallet laid across the floor in the living room, inches from where I will sleep tonight on the couch. The scene feels exactly the same as it did when I was 8 years old, but instead of Libby & Jake & Drew sleeping on the pallet, it’s my husband, Noah. We trade the guest room for the couch & a pallet on the floor so we are in earshot of DeDe’s room and the bell she rings if she needs anything.

There are funeral programs from DeDe’s loved ones scattered across the center ottoman, a notepad with the hymns DeDe wants sung at her funeral, and a list DeDe made for all that needs to get done before guests get to town tomorrow. I glance over at the funeral program from Papa’s funeral & think to myself how it feels like yesterday he was sitting in the chair next to DeDe’s, only a few feet from where I sit. And now, that image of him in that chair—a memory. I feel lucky, now, to be sleeping on this couch, to be able to help DeDe to her chair in the morning. I can’t begin to imagine a day when her in that chair will be a memory too, but they say that day is any day now, and those memories will be here sooner rather than later.

Tomorrow Libby comes, then Drew, then Sha-Sha & Jase, then Emmie, then Jake & Morgan, then Fisher. All of us will sit here and love DeDe for as long as she’ll let us. Best of all, we will be together—DeDe’s favorite place to be.

There is so much swirling in my head tonight, but I’m choosing to focus in on what my Aunt Gay left me with when she dropped off a meal for us tonight. She whispered this to me: “You guys are so blessed to be a part of bringing new life into this world simultaneously as DeDe is leaving us.” For us to be creating the people that will carry DeDe’s light on.

So tonight, my head floods with memories and emotions & my eyes maybe even with some tears, but as I look down at my tummy, I remember this too: how very beautiful & purposeful to be carrying into the world this little light that will carry forward the work DeDe began before any of us were even here.

You see, my DeDe can’t really go anywhere—she’s deep in us all.