There was something undeniable about Alyssa—something that made the world feel softer when she was in it. She had a way of making people feel at ease, of making them laugh, of showing up with a warmth that wrapped around you like a favorite blanket. She wasn’t just her mother’s daughter; she was her mini-me, her mirror, her babygirl. A force of love, laughter, and kindness all wrapped into one unforgettable person.

If time could be turned back, her mother knows where she’d go. Back to the moments when they stood side by side, Alyssa grinning that mischievous grin, her laughter lighting up the air around them. Back to a time when love didn’t ache and loss was just a word with no meaning. She’d hold her close and whisper the words that haven’t left her heart since the day Alyssa left:

"I love you, babygirl. I always have. I always will."

Alyssa had a kindness that was rare. It wasn’t something she talked about—it was something she lived. You felt it in the way she listened, in the way she loved, in the way she carried herself through the world with a grace and strength that made you feel lucky just to know her. She had a personality that could fill a room, a laugh that could melt even the hardest day, and a heart big enough to hold everyone she cared about.

And she cared deeply. About her family, about her friends, about life itself. If she were here today, she’d be cheering for the Eagles, screaming at the TV with that same passion and fire that made everything she did feel larger than life. She should be here—laughing, loving, living—but even though she’s gone, her spirit remains. It lingers in the people who carry her memory, in the moments that still echo with her laughter, in the love that refuses to fade.

"I love you and miss you. I wish you were here to see the Eagles in the Super Bowl."

Alyssa, you were more than words can capture, more than a memory, more than a name spoken through tears. You were love, you were light, and you will never, ever be forgotten.