Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. I love you and happy heavenly birthday. Love Ryan

“As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

Happy Heavenly Birthday Mom!!! Love you and still think about you every day.

I Don’t Need A Special Day
I don’t need a special day
to bring you to mind
the days I do not think of you
are very hard to find.

Each morning when I awake
I know that you are gone
and no one knows the heartache
as I try to carry on.

My heart still aches with sadness
And secret tears still flow
What it meant to lose you,
no one will ever know.

My thoughts are always with you,
Your places no one can fill.
In life, I loved you dearly,
In death, I love you still.

Letter from Heaven
When tomorrow starts without me,
And I’m not here to see. 
If the sun should rise and find your eyes, filled with tears for me.

I wish so much you wouldn’t cry,
the way you did today,
while thinking of the many things
we didn’t get to say.

I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you,
and each time you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too.

When tomorrow starts without me
Don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me,
I’m right there in your heart.

Arlene Diane Hawkins, 69, of Houston, Texas, departed this life Monday, June 29, 2020.
Arlene was born June 24, 1951 in Fort Lewis, Washington to Rudolph and Margaret Ackerman. Arlene was preceded in death by her parents Rudolph and Margaret. During her early childhood she moved often across the United States from Washington, to Monticello, Kentucky, back to Washington, and then to Bend, Oregon. She studied at the University of Houston where she Graduated Magna Cum Laude with a Bachelor’s degree in Accounting. While attending the University of Houston, she was a member of Beta Alpha Psi National Accounting Fraternity. As one of the top students in her Accounting class, she was also invited to join Beta Gamma Sigma Honor Society. Upon graduation in 1983, she started her career in accounting with Pennzoil in downtown Houston.  She later joined Universal Weather and Aviation and had many successful years as an Assistant Controller. After she retired, she kept busy volunteering with AARP doing free tax prep and tax counseling for local members. She was also active in the local Daughters of the American Revolution, a non-profit organization. In her free time, she enjoyed researching the genealogy of her family and attending University of Houston Football games. Arlene is survived by Leonard Hawkins (husband), and son Ryan Hawkins of Friendswood, Texas (wife Vicki) and 2 grandchildren Ethan and Brooke Hawkins, her siblings Bill Ackerman of Kent, Washington(wife Sandy and 2 Children Courtney and Chris), Rudolph Sam Ackerman of Houston, Texas (Daughter Heather).