To Meike and Theo, Your mum was one of a kind. She wasn’t just special—she was unforgettable. 

She walked into every room like she already belonged there, and somehow, within minutes, you’d be laughing, shocked, probably blushing a little—and never wanting her to leave. The first time I met her, I was only 18. She was a few years older and just finishing up with her braces, but even then, she had this wild wisdom—like someone who’d already lived five lifetimes. She was fierce, funny, compassionate, and chaotic in the most beautiful way. She walked through life the way she danced: bold, loud, free, and never half-assed. 

She had this way of seeing people—the parts they tried to hide, the pain behind the jokes, the softness behind the sass—and she’d love you harder because of it, not despite it. We became best friends instantly. But that wasn’t unique. She had so many best friends because she earned it—by showing up, by holding space, by being exactly who she was: a warrior and an angel, a little naughty devil in a fun way, and a safe home. She was your corner person. The one who made things better just by sitting next to you. 

Formerly known as Miss Nikki Violence. That was her nickname when I met her—and yes, she earned that too. She could throw down when it mattered. And trust me, it did. She once got the whole gang banned from the bar (which, don’t worry, didn’t last forever), after she “mopped the floor” with a well-deserving someone who messed with her one too many times. And yeah—people cheered. We no longer condone violence, but at the time we were young and wild. Nikki was your girl. Loyal to the core. Protective as hell. She didn’t care what people thought—if you were her person, she’d fight for your joy. 

But my favourite chapter was when she became your mum. Everything about her shifted—but she never lost her fire. She just turned it into protection. You guys, it was incredible to be her friend and watch her become your mum. It’s the greatest honour of my life. She became this powerful, grounded, fierce Dutch Mama Bear. She carried that ancient, unshakable love that only the best mums have. It pours out of her. She was made to be a mum. She was made to be your mum. You could see it. You could feel it. And she loves you both more than anything. More than life itself. You are her everything. 

Theo—you were her first heartbeat outside her body. She calls you her mirror, her heart, her gentleness, her wisdom. You are soft and strong, curious, kind, and unconditionally loving. She says your soul feels older than hers sometimes. 

Meike—you are her wild intellectual magic. Her fearless, funny, fierce little mini. You had her spirit before you even had words. Your curiosity, your cleverness, your unconditional love—it was like watching Nikki’s sparkle all over again, only entirely your own. She talks about you both constantly. Brags about you guys. Tells stories. Posts videos. Shares your brilliance like she is sprinkling glitter on everyone she tells. And she is so proud. Of who you are. Of who you’re becoming. You two are her legacy. You’re the proof that love is something we do, not just something we say. 

Your mum and I went through so much together. Sixteen years of wild, weird, wonderful friendship. Holidays. Moves. Breakups. Belly-laugh nights. Dance parties to mourn the dead. Dance parties to celebrate life. Depression. Disease. Divorce. A pandemic. Barbecues, beach days, and slumber parties. We helped raise each other. She once told me: “Love is an adjective more than a noun.” That’s how she lived. She loved in action. In effort. In late-night calls and open arms. In spontaneous gifts, and messages of love. In ridiculous jokes and carefully packed lunchboxes. In hugs that felt like therapy. In being there when no one else was. I didn’t have a great family growing up. I didn’t have a family at all when I was an adult. Nikki, your beautiful mum, gave me one. You guys gave me one. You welcomed me in and gave me the happiest memories of my life. When I had nowhere to go, you and your mum and your whole family took me in. When I lost my own mum, Nikki mothered me through it. This was when you were both babies. She was my hero in that time. The motherly energy that I missed was filled in watching her mother you. When I was heartbroken, she held me—and told me the hard truths, but with love. 

She made me feel safe and understood in a way no one else ever had. She allowed me the chance to be close to you both and watch the miracle that is you both. Some of my favourite memories are so small, but perfect. Soccer on the front lawn. A bunch of us rolled into a blanket pile in her freezing 17-degree house, fake-watching movies while having 10 chaotic conversations at once. You two climbing on me like a jungle gym, teasing me, calling me “Aunty” like I was part of the furniture. Like I belonged. Making crafts and artwork, going to the park, and on bike rides. 

There are so many memories I could spend years telling them. Your mum was my family in many ways, because in your mum’s world, everyone belonged. And she meant it. And you guys are such big parts of her story. As is her family. Nikki loves her family. She loves her mum—beautiful Mumma Marge. Her dad and his wisdom. Her siblings in all their unique ways. Your Grandpa Fred and all his talents. The nights spent together under the stars and surrounded by her playlist live on in my heart forever. She had this sibling love for her cousin Mari—who wasn’t just a cousin, but her soul sister—and her amazing niece Jo who changed you mums world. She’d tell stories about them again and again—laughing, glowing, proud of every family member. How she spoke about her brothers was amazing. She could barely get the stories out between laughs. 

I loved how she spoke about her family. It was so healing to me to see someone so in love with her family. She gave me hope for life. She loved her people hard. From her lifelong friends to her soul sisters and brothers and others, her mum group, her homie Leland, his family, and anyone lucky enough to cross her path. We were more than friends. We were chosen family. Like I said, I have never met someone with more true best friends. She was the queen of the front porch hang. The “dance floor can be anywhere” kind of vibe. The spontaneous road trip. The late-night kitchen talk. The brutally honest advice and the softest, safest hug. She made people feel alive—and safe—at the same time. That’s a rare kind of magic. Goodness, she is magic. 

I wish we had more time. I wish I could call her. I wish I hadn’t lost touch in that last years. That’s a regret I’ll hold close forever. But here’s what I promise you both: She’s still here. I feel her every day. You can find her in your laughter. In your bravery. In your weirdness. In your strength. In your softness. In your intellect and wisdom. In your kindness and friendship. In your love of animals and family. In your stories. In your songs. When you sing and when you dance she is with you. In the way you love each other she is there. She is you, and woven into you, forever. Talk to her. Sing to her. Dance with her. Yell when you need to. Cry. Laugh. Remember. Keep her loud. Keep her present. Let her love keep guiding you. Because your mum? She wasn’t just fire. She was home. And she loves you more than words could ever say. 

With all my heart, Forever your friend and Aunty, Kari