Corporal Frances Marie Collender

This year I’m at a loss for words. 25 years ago my mother didn’t come home. 25 years. A quarter of a century. It just doesn’t seem fathomable that much time has passed. Twenty-five years is a number your brain understands, but your heart never really does. That kind of anniversary can knock the air out of you and It did just that.

Just a few weeks ago, we found the house phone and were able to play the voicemail message you left on it. To hear your voice again and to be able to know I will have that always, was the greatest gift. You were taken from us in a era where cell phones, pictures, videos, recordings, technology in general was just taking off. We are limited on your footprint that you left behind; so as time goes on, I feel like you're slipping away and that is my biggest fear.

The realization of “she should have been here for this” hits over and over again, no matter how much time passes. Missing her smile, her laugh, her voice… those aren’t small losses. They’re the everyday pieces that make someone feel present, and I still ache for them.

I carry her with me in the stories, in the memories others share, in the parts of me that exist because of her. We share these with her grandsons so they too will carry on her memory.

Time has passed, but love doesn’t measure itself in years. Remembering her out loud is a form of love—and I feel that fully.

When I see 111 I know she’s with me. She will forever be my hero and guardian angel.

Taylor Wallis
Daughter

February 11, 2026