Mom would have been 54 today. I go through this every year, the "I can't believe it's been X years…" bit. It baffles me every year when I hit a date that forces me to look back…baffled because life went on after she died when I was certain that it couldn't possibly. This is now the sixth August 14th that I've greeted without her, but none have been as hard as that first one.

I only wrote to her for the first two because it tore me in two both times. Even reading them now, the rawness returns. Is it healthy to have such a trunk of vivid memory perfectly preserved? Probably not…but I'm very responsible when it comes to prying open the lid.

Ah, her smile. There are times I forget just how completely she could fill a moment with light. She enchanted everyone in her world with her humor, her compassion, and her love. She showered us with optimism, often leaving none for the quiet moments she kept to herself…particularly during those last years when Cancer came to live with us. People often didn't realize that she was sick…dying. Shouldn't a dying person be replete with sadness, after all? As Mom would probably say, that's a pretty ungrateful way to spend borrowed time.

She was two weeks into 24 when I was born…how young. How was she so wise and full of love to give already by 24? I was a self-consuming mess at 24! I suppose she was always on borrowed time, on loan to me from a generous benefactor. I'm very lucky that I could know her for the time that I did. Would I trade her and the short time I knew her for someone else who is still here? Not on your life.

Happy birthday, Mom. I miss you, and it still hurts that you're not here…but I promise that I won't let it leaden my days. That's a pretty ungrateful way to spend this beautiful life that you helped me see.