I just got off the phone with a dear friend. It's a tough day for him. His mom, Violet, died five years ago today. He'd been thinking about me because I'm coming up on the first anniversary of my mom's death on New Year's Day. We were remarking how it's the seemingly insignificant things – the memories you don't realize are "Memories" (with a capital "M") until they're no longer there. For me, one was the realization that the annual commemorative Christmas ornament my mom sent me every year for the last 20 years wouldn't be coming this year. Never had even thought about it, until it wasn't there.

Anyway, I mentioned to my friend how my 8-year-old daughter, Sam, had the kind of view of "a loved one going to heaven" that only a child can have. When she sensed I was sad about the upcoming anniversary, she said "How about on New Year's Day we go under the house (our crawl space where we store everything), take out everything that reminds us of Grandma, put it all around the house and celebrate? That will make us happy and remember all the good things about her." The wisdom of a child: don't dread the grief, don't bury it under the house, drag everything out and celebrate the fact that it means so much to you.

My friend then shared a miracle he experienced today. Every year on this day, he lights a violet candle in memory of his mom. The candle has become worn, with the wax drippings forming a thin shelf around the edges as the wick burned down. Today as he went to light it, the side of the thin wax tore and fell to the side, prompting him to say out loud to his mom, "That's just how how I feel, Mom. Every time I remember you, my heart tears a little." I told him that was a sign his mom was there with him, and he said he knew she was.

Miracles amidst the memories…it's all good. I hope your miracles find you today. And if you feel compelled, please share them with a couple of grown-up kids who are missing their moms today.