Re-blogging a Miss You Mom letter from last year. Today is now 16 years without her call, and it still is the biggest littlest thing I miss on my birthday.
Dear Mom, I’ve been sad this week. My birthday is coming up. For 15 years my birthdays have not started right. They’ve been as ok as they can be without you, but they’ll never start right again. It seemed like every year you would get up earlier than the previous year to call me and be the first person to sing happy birthday to me, so I would start my special day happy. It was so silly, but it was your special thing you had to do for me and I only pretended I was upset at the early call. I hope you knew I wasn’t really upset. And then in the fall of 1998, my last call came but I didn’t know it was my last call. I wish I had known. I would have had you sing it a couple of times so I could have recorded it, because now I can’t remember what it sounded like when you sang it. In the fall of 1999, my birthday came and the phone was silent. I didn’t want to leave the house because I still wasn’t used to you being gone and I didn’t want to miss your call. Even though it was my birthday I was not as happy about it as I used to be because it didn’t start right. Now when I wake up on my birthday, I have to remind myself not to wait for the phone to ring. I miss you Mom.