another heavenly birthday...

on december 17, 2018, we celebrated your 59th birthday. you were fighting for your life, but hiding your pain from us all. keeping us in the dark while internalizing your horrifying secret… you were dying. and we all refused to believe it.

you always loved your birth-month (because let’s be serious, it was never just a day with you). for someone who gave so much to soooo many, you had no shame lapping up the love and attention on “your day.”

but that’s what we all loved so much about you. your ginormous heart. your love of life. your ability to celebrate every single day as if it were THE VERY BEST DAY. your willingness to give EVERYTHING, expect NOTHING, and still be so genuinely, obnoxiously grateful when the people who loved you most would show up in ways that paled in comparison to what you truly deserved.

celebrating this day (or any day) still feels beyond impossible. trudging through life after all this time (enough time that grief this intense feels a little embarrassing) with a forced smile and numbed emotions.

how do you celebrate the birth of someone who was SO full of life but is no longer alive? whose fire was put out way too soon?

i have not one fucking clue. so i leaned on what i know best. last night i looked through photos of you, i drank champagne and i cried. i listened to sad songs. and i wrote you a birthday card that will sit in a box with all the others i have written over the years, unread.

four years ago, i called you up and sang you a very out of tune rendition of happy birthday and i wrote you blog that ended it with these words…

so today, as we celebrate you and everything that makes you so amazing, I hope you remember just how many people are, in fact, celebrating your life. you’re a warrior, and we will continue to love you, pray for you, drink with you, laugh with you, cry with you and cheer for you every single day.

nothing i can say today feels more accurate than those words written 1,460 days ago, so i won’t even try.

happy birthday my dear, sweet momma. I miss you with every ounce of my being.