Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Happy Birthday

Well, today is your birthday. I think I am more sad on this day than any other day. The anniversary of your death isn't hard, it brings back some great memories. But today, today proves to me that you will no longer celebrate the year ahead. You won't be here to open gifts, to eat cake and ice cream, or to watch your grandchildren play. You won't be here to hand out pencils at Halloween, or to start playing Christmas music far too early. You won't be here when I have questions about how to cook a turkey for Thanksgiving. You won't be here for a lot of questions I'll have.

I miss you.

I've had some realizations over the last little while, though. It's like when I see a picture of you, you look different than I remember. It's almost like the feelings and memories I have of you have transformed your appearance into something different. I mean, I still see you and know it's you, but the feelings aren't as apparent in a photo as they are in my being. I hope this doesn't mean I'm forgetting you. I'm pretty sure I'm not, since every day I think about you, or talk about you, or hear the kids talking about you. You're still a huge part of my life. But now it's just the memories of you, the stories you've told us, and the good times we shared.

I miss you.

I know birthdays aren't a huge deal, but when you're not around to share them with us, it makes them a big deal. I wish I had had you for one more birthday. One more conference turkey. One more Christmas. Even one more day. But I know it was your time. I know the lessons we learned that summer are profound and endless. I know it was part of the plan. But I sure could have used one more hug. One more night of sitting on the edge of your bed talking. One more Sunday evening outside in the shade of the willow tree, talking and laughing.

Happy Birthday, mom.

I miss you.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Where Has The Time Gone?

I miss you. I miss you more than I ever thought I could. I think of you every day. I talk of you every day. My kids do too. We all miss you.

It was 2 years ago this very night, this very time in fact, that I was lying at your side waiting for what I knew was the end. The veil was thin that night, and you were hovering between the here and there.

My heart was breaking. I was bargaining with God, I was talking to you with my thoughts, telling you all the "I love you's" I could get out, enough to make up for these years of not having you here to hear them.

And then you were gone. You slipped through our fingers and flew as an angel. We sat in stunned silence and prayed with all our hearts that you would forever know how much you were loved. And you still are loved. Not only by us, but by so many.

I miss you. I love you. I can't believe it's been 2 years. And yet it seems like forever has passed since I've seen you. I hope you can see us, and I hope we make you proud. I hope you can feel how much we love you, and that you can somehow show us you're still here.

This night will always be hard, but now we are all together to remember that summer. We laugh a lot, we cry plenty, and we remember with reverent fondness all those miracles and mercies that were ours for those short weeks.

And we remember you. We will never forget you, and all the wonderful things that make you, you. We miss you. We love you.

All of us.