Happy Birthday my beautiful boy!
Every day I miss you so and today is no exception.
Unfortunately, it’s one of those tearful days. I haven’t had one in quite some
time, so I’ll just buck up and deal with it. You left us with so many memories
most of which brings laughter…you were always the “life of the party” and
always had a story to tell!
Today I celebrate the gift you gave me, your life. Thirty-five
and a half years of you! From scratch, you taught me how to be a mom and
prepared me to be a mom for your brothers as they joined the family. I learned
the meaning of unconditional love and tough love, both valuable. I learned to let
you go and make a mark on the world in your own way. You stumbled, made
mistakes, learned lessons, and I never waivered in my love for you. I knew one
day you would figure it out and you did.
You left us with a beautiful little girl and memories that one
might think would last a lifetime, but I want more. I want to see you smile at
my door instead of on my wall. I want to hear your voice over the phone instead
of in a video. I want to feel your big ole hugs instead of only have a memory
of what they felt like. I want … am I selfish to say, “I want”? Is it possible
to be selfish in grief? I don’t think so because today the pain of still wanting
you here to celebrate your birthday feels valid, not selfish. I just don’t
think I should have to experience this kind of pain. No matter what other
things life has thrown my way; losing brothers, enduring more than six months
of not knowing what was wrong with your baby brother as he woke up sick every
single day, watching Bryan hold onto his family a little tighter and knowing why, and even this
madness of quarantine…nothing compares to the loss of a child. All of “that” is
a walk in the park in comparison.
For now, I’m going to be a “big girl”, get myself dressed and go
about my day. I’ll stop when the tears start. I’ll eat Mexican and have a Coors
Light for your birthday, because that is my new tradition on May 16th.
I’ll have Jennifer by my side as my birthday buddy…four years running. I’ll
give myself permission to continue working through this process we know as
grief. Knowing it does not get easier; we just learn to navigate through it. I’ll
get through another day without you, another birthday without you, and another
memory without you. I love you so much that losing you still hurts, that I must
pause in writing to wipe the tears that are filling my eyes and running down my
cheeks. You are loved. You are missed. You are celebrated. You will always live
in our hearts.
Love you always and forever,
Mom 💓
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| Cheers! |
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