Birthday Wishes...

32 years ago you came into this world and 3 months ago you left it. This will be the first year for me where I didn't have some sort of birthday party, wish, call or message to you. Things are fresh in my mind again on your passing. I know they call this an 'anniversary trigger'. The emotional churning will settle back down again I know, but this day February 18th will always be yours.

This year the wishes are mine. I wish you were still alive. I wish your son knew you and that you knew him, and could see him grow. I wish your life here would have been all that you were created for it to be. I wish Louie still got calls from you. He's visiting you today. I wish Diana and the girls still saw you and played with you. They visit you too. I wish Jill still heard from you and checked in on you. I wish you and I had a better relationship than we did and I wish we were closer to you. I wish your desire for a loving, healthy family was realized. I wish you beat your demons and were set free once and for all. I wish you were Catholic...

I'm also grateful today. I'm grateful for your life. I'm grateful that I'm your mom. I'm grateful for the lessons you have taught me. I'm grateful for your son. I'm grateful for all of you. Most of all, I'm grateful to God for hope. Because of you, I learned what hope is.

I'm glad that I wrote to you and told you all about your birthday. How I went through 57 hours of labor with you and drank a whole bottle of wine to help me relax. You got a kick out of hearing that and even now that makes me smile. If you weren't away would I ever have written to you and given you all of the detail? Probably not. I don't think I ever have with your brother or sisters. Maybe I will.

It's Lent. You were born during Lent. I don't think you ever knew what that season is because I never taught you and it wasn't part of the protestant tradition that your family is. I never knew myself until I became Catholic. I never told you because I feared coming on too strong to my shame. It's penitential. A time when we are reminded that we are dust and to dust we will return. A season of 40 days of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, in reparation for all of our sins against God. Like Jesus did in the desert.

Mark, this year your birthday candle is extinguished. But you are not. Not in my heart, not in the hearts of your family and not in God's eyes. I can only pray for you now and it's my honor and duty to do so. You have returned to 'dust' like we all are reminded will be for us too. And you are literally in the desert. And like you, our souls will live on forever. It's my hope and prayer that eternity will be with God, in heaven for all of us.

Lord, please in your great mercy remember Mark and us. Bring us all to you. Amen.