October 13th~ this was my Mother's birthday. The first year without her.
I woke up that Saturday morning with a pretty busy "to do" list.
Things that I managed to put off the weekend before now were priorities for this day.
I thought about her.
I wondered why I wasn't sad, or crying because I can no longer physically touch her.
I can no longer take a morning drive up north and give her a pretty little birthday card
covered with flowers (daisies) on the front~ stating "Happy Birthday to a Wonderful Mother".
The years before when I would make that birthday visit - right before she began to fade
in the depths of dementia, I would watch her frail hands open the envelope (most likely pink or ivory) that contained her card. She would slowly look at the front- her lips would move as she barely whisper the words. She would smile at me~ then hand me the card to place on her nightstand.
I thought about this Saturday morning as I poured my coffee.
I didn't cry. I didn't feel sadness as I thought I would have.
Was I wrong not to?
I spoke later with Football Superstar- and I feel as if the two years before my mother passed away-
I already knew that my mourning period began. I knew the birthdays were no longer the important part of my visits. Just sitting by her chair side, or sitting across her bed as she slept was important.
Holding her hand. Listening to her breath. Just quietness.
But still a visit no less.
God gave us the gift of love~ and with that comes remembrance. Memories sketched in our minds to never forget the cherished moments we have with our loved ones.
And perhaps this is why I did not cry on October 13th. I felt loved. I felt her love. Always will.
I love you ~ now close your little peepers will always be sketched in my mind.
I love you too mommy*