ten twelve

I wrote this last year. A year later, I still feel the exact same way. Selfish. Sad. Angry. Joyful.

I don’t know why her birthday is always the hardest day of the year for me. Well, right there with Dec 22, the day of the accident. But it just hurts so differently.

Mother’s Day is hard, but I have Elizabeth and the mommy that I am to focus on.

CJ’s birthday hurts, but all of his friends surround me.

Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, they’re all painful too, but I know I have to carry on her traditions for Elizabeth and choose to be joyFULL like she would want me to be.

I know she is happy. I know she is pain free. I know she has finally reached the ultimate goal in life. I know she doesn’t miss a thing. And I am forever grateful she no longer has to put up with the hell and sinfulness of earth.

But I just want to hear her voice. I want to call four or five florist until I find someone who has 12 of her favorite purple roses they’ll deliver to her doorstep (even though I know she’ll fuss at me for spending that much money on flowers that will die). I want to see her playing Barbies with Elizabeth on the floor, even when her legs would be numb. I want to go Black Friday shopping with her next month and eat at the awful waffle house at 3am like we use to do. I want to find her biscuits on my table Sunday morning. I want her to stop by so we can go on a date alone, or let Elizabeth have her first sleepover.

It’s her birthday. I hold it together pretty damn well the other 364 days of the year, but every year on October 12, I fall completely apart.

Happy 53rd birthday, Mama. I love you with a sugar and a peck and a hug around the neck.

This song’s for you.

• “You’re rich in love, and you’re slow to anger. Your name is great and your heart is kind.
• For all your goodness I will keep on singing. 10 thousand reasons for my heart to find”

I know you’re singing his praises forever more!