This article is dedicated to my to godmother Aunt Sue; I hope you are living with your guardian angels becoming one for me.

I'm sitting here yet another night sad and angry that you aren't here on earth. I can't call you, I can't text you. I can't dream of seeing you in the next couple months because where you are now is too far away. There are no late night 'I love you' texts coming from you. And my hardest reality is that they will never come again.

I can't send you my most recent article to read because I know how much you enjoyed reading what I wrote. You never stopped telling me how proud you were of me for following my dreams and being fearless... little did you know that it was your strength that motivated me to be strong. I wish I could have explained you that you were my hero. Although you've been told, I genuinely hope you know how special you are. I will never say this in past tense because your soul will live on in the hearts of everyone who loves you.

You left us too soon. The cancer that took your life should have never even been in you and you should be riding on your motorcycle or spending time with friends at a local bar. You should be on your back porch with your husband talking about what your cats did or how your day at work went. You should be here.

I had so many dreams with you. You were supposed to move to Florida a few months ago close to where I go to college; we made plans of me coming to visit on free weekends where we would spend our days in the pool and around the TV with glasses of wine in our hands at night. For so many years you weren't in my life, but the celebration of my great-grandparents wedding anniversary brought us together.

You cried when you saw me and I knew in that moment I found my second mom. These past several years of support and unconditional love affirmed the pride you always carried for me, even when you didn't know me. During our time together, you gave me several presents with the words "She believed she could, so she did" on them, and I will live by that mantra until my last days. I wish I could explain the ache in my heart knowing that I can never hear your voice again or feel your hug, but there are a few things I still want to tell you.

You were my role model. I will never forget how you always knew your worth and you wouldn't take poor treatment from anybody. You were the ultimate badass and I will always try to live my life in this manner in your honor. (Excuse my language but there really is no other word to properly describe the magnitude of this woman's ways). You were fearless. You would never take no for an answer and demanded what you wanted. I find that people are so afraid nowadays to demand anything because they fear being disliked or difficult... but you never cared. You were comfortable with who you were, and I admire that most about you.

In the face of adversary, you were always ready to fight. In the presence of sorrow, you were always somebody's shoulder to cry on. You were a rock and in times like this, if it wasn't you that passed but any other family member, you would be calling me to check in on how I was doing. You would be taking care of everyone as we would try to comfort you in return. I think that's what hurts most right now. I want you here to stop my tears and I know it would break your heart that you're causing them.

I want you to know that I am not angry or upset at you. If I could bring you back tomorrow, I would love nothing more, but I am comforted knowing that you are safe. Although it is a sad time, I am happy that you are free. You've found your family again and you are no longer suffering in a world of pain and one that was really no longer yours. I am proud of you for holding on for so long but also knowing when to let go. I will always cherish the women you were and all the lessons you instilled in me.

Because of you, I believe in myself.

Because of you, I understand that I shouldn't be afraid.

Because of you, I am a better person.

I will see you in every butterfly and rose I pass; your love will always live on my angel.