Hello Family, friends and our beloved community! I write this story with a heavy heart ❤️ and broken spirit. My mother Josephina Reh aka (Joseè) passed away on Sunday April 19th, 2020. My mother was a original piece of art like nothing of the ordinary. She was my rockstar and my sunshine . She was my hero and my best friend. She loved life, laughter, singing and her gardens. She was a artist, interior designer, florist, garden genius, and most importantly my mother! She was a mother to my brother Daniel, myself and dedicated wife to my father, George for over 50 years. She was a grandmother and a friend to anyone she met. Her hands were the ones that molded me and made me the person I am. Her hands were the reason I could be anything imagined. Her love was endless and her spirit full of contagious energy. My mom loved life! My mom was my comfort when I was sad. My mom supported me through every trial and every scream. My mother walked beside me and in front of me regardless of time or space. She was my biggest fan and in her words, I was her little “angel”. My mom loved to celebrate and was born a caretaker and friend! She took care of me since age 2 when I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. My life hasn’t been easy but through it all my mother was my cheerleader and biggest advocate. She sacrificed everything for me and she became the rock I needed. I honestly don’t know how to do life without her spirit and encouragement but I will try. I now your help to celebrate her life and legacy. We will have a celebration of her life and the costs are significant. My mother deserves the most memorable celebration of her story and journey. I am asking for help with these funeral costs, expenses and assistance for our family during this devastating time. Everything helps and I know my mother is watching from above to see all her friends, family and “angel” community coming together to help her kids. A poem I found captivates my love for my mom and hope that she is no longer in pain. Published: February 2006 Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath. Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step. Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall. Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all. Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow. Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn't always show. Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach. Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length. Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harm's way. Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say. Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree. Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be. Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work, Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt. Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be. Her hands are the reason I am me. Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/her-hands