Hi Mom,

It’s your birthday. I don’t know how that works in heaven now that you live in a place that is timeless. Do you even know that today was a special date? My guess is that you are blissfully unaware of aging. What a gift!

I have to tell you though, I think of you often but more so on this day. I woke up a little somber, but my house was full of the laughter of your great grandsons. They perked me right up. You would love them so much. They are full of joy. They light up the room and my heart feels like it will explode with love every time I see them.

Since you are no longer here, I am trying to carry on your memory-making abilities with them. We paint. We read. We play. It makes me think of how you interacted with your own grandchildren in such a way that all nine of them have fond memories of their times with you. I want my grandkids to have that, too.

The weather here is glorious today. It would be the perfect day to be on top of the mountain at Cloudwood. Swinging on the front porch and catching up on life events. The sun is bright and that is helping my mood. The light soaks into my spirit and lifts me up. There is hope in the air…and pollen. Of course, it is supposed to storm this week and get cold again. It is March after all. The roller coaster weather month. Still, the daffodils remind me of your smile. They are resilient in the bi-polar weather. The forsythias are also wildly dancing in the winds. I understand why yellow was one of your favorite colors.

March is the season of you. Your birth. Your love of all things bright and colorful among the still-brown mountains. Your way of looking for silver linings. Your voice, which I miss. All the conversations that went away long before you were gone. Mostly the hugs and the way you always knew when they were needed…sometimes before I did.

Life is different without you in it. I have an urge to pick up the phone for a recipe of yours instead I have to look it up. I am just beginning to see that it was never about the recipe. It was the sound of your voice and the closeness of your presence. The connection. The story behind the recipe or the quick check-in once I had what I needed. It is the ease with which the communication flowed that I miss most. Now it seems we are further apart and I have to guess at your wisdom rather than to hear it.

Tomorrow we’ll be spreading birdseed so the birds can keep you and Dad company. For now, I am going to look up videos on my phone to hear your voice. You are missed. Happy Birthday…or Happy Creation Day…or whatever you celebrate.

I love you, Mom.