A year ago, my mom was homeless. She’d been on the streets for nearly a decade, battling addiction and hitting rock bottom more times than I can count.

Today, she’s sober — no SSRI medications or substances. She goes to the gym with me multiple times a week. There are many holidays we missed out on sharing together because she was battling grief from the loss of family, and coping with it through alcohol — years that just slipped by. But she’s shown up to every single one this past year. I’ve spent more quality time with her in the last twelve months than I have in the past decade. She’s slowly but surely getting her life back, and she’s doing it the right way.

For those of you who know her — you already know she has a good heart. Life dealt her some hard cards early on, and those early setbacks had a long reach. But the person underneath all of that has always been there. What we’re seeing now isn’t a new person — it’s her, finally getting the chance to come through.

We wanted to do something meaningful to match the effort she’s been putting in. For over ten years, she’s lived with painful, deteriorating teeth — limiting what she could eat, affecting her confidence, and something she carried quietly the whole time. So as a family, we committed to getting her top and bottom dentures.

Over four and a half months, we went through every step — exams, extractions, measurements, fittings. Nine teeth removed. Real money saved. Real time invested. When her dentures finally arrived, we were all relieved.

She can’t use them. The bite is completely off — she can’t eat with them in at all. Which means after everything, she’s actually worse off than before.

We spent the week trying to get them adjusted. Then we found out the dental office had shut down entirely. Phones disconnected. Doors locked.

We’re at a complete loss.

Getting new dentures means starting the entire process over — another four months minimum , another liquid diet, and costs we simply don’t have right now. My mom can’t step away to work extra hours because she’s a live-in caregiver for Tatiannas grandmother and a cornerstone of our childcare. There’s no easy workaround here.

She worked for three years across different jobs to save up for this. She did everything right. And a business closure took it from her overnight.

I truly feel like she’s entering her second lease on life. But being able to eat without limitation, and having a smile she’s not ashamed of — that’s part of getting her all the way back. Not just surviving, but better than before.

Any amount helps — whether it goes toward a new dental consultation, the process itself, or just keeping things stable while we figure out next steps. We’re not asking for anything she hasn’t already earned. We just need a little help getting her there.

Thank you for reading this far. It means a lot