Today is your birthday. You’re not here, but that doesn’t keep us from celebrating. After you left, we never stopped celebrating you and your greatness. Each year has been different. Some years cake, some years activities that you loved, but every year there are tears. Tears celebrating a life gone too soon. Tears celebrating the blessing that you were and the blessing you remain. Tears in the heartbreak of your absence.
We will never stop celebrating you. Each year on your birthday we find ways to honor you. We find ways to make you proud. We find ways to keep your spirit just as alive as if you were still here. It’s hard celebrating the birthday of someone who is gone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important.
This year, I sit here, at your grave. Wishing instead of beneath me, you were beside me. Every year on your birthday your only request was time with your family. You’re not here to request it, so here I sit, spending time with you. It feels hollow to sit here. There is an emptiness that fills me when I visit you here. But I’ll save that story for a different day.
Today is about you. Today is about finding ways to give you the things you asked for, even after you’ve passed. Today is about celebrating everything that made you special and so deeply loved. But the truth is, today is hard. You are missed fiercely, mom.
We will try our hardest to be joyful today, for you. We will look at pictures of you. We will talk about your greatness. We will share stories of times that made us laugh, times that surprised us, and times that we’ll never forget. We’ll gather together today, so that if you can see us, you see us giving you a party from afar. Never forgetting you. Never forgetting your love, your influence, your grace.
Selfishly, I hope we feel your presence today. I’m desperately searching for you, even more-so than usual.
Happy Birthday in heaven, Mom. I hope our love and our birthday wishes make it to you.
