On a birthday, most people are caught up in all the hoopla - their age, parties, gifts, dinners, cake, etc.
Instead, I remember my mother.
She was beautiful, intelligent, quiet and demure. I never heard her raise her voice and she protected me unconditionally. She never asked for much, accepted her lot in life, and only remained here for the sake of her children.
My mom passed when I was 18. The world as I knew it would never be the same. She was taken away too early, too fast and I wasn't able to share my many milestones. But I know, without doubt, she has been with me every step of the way.
She continues to come to me in my dreams, fleetingly, leaving me empty when I awake, as I grasp to remember her as she left me.
When I held my first born, my heart ache was two-fold: partly in joy for the new life I brought into this world and for the lifeline that left this world 20 years ago.
No one can replace MY mother. Squeeze me? Oh yes, many have tried but I do not allow that proximity. To me, that's sacrilege.
My birthday is not about me -- it is a tribute to my mama.
Heaven is at the foot of your mother.
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