Empty Birthday Feelings

    I had a mother who had brown hair that fell to a little bit over her shoulders. She usually pulled her hair up with a purple or blue scrunchy, sometimes it was a brown hair clip. Her purse contained an endless amount of contents: coupons, keys, gum, cards, etc. She always used the same purse and always made us breakfast. She worked wherever she had to so she could provide for her four children. She was a janitor, a preschool teacher, and lastly and teacher for the blind. That was her passion, helping people.

   My mother had a love for science and teaching her students that I will never forget. In the summer and during school breaks, we'd sit in the car while she'd check on the plants in the greenhouse and water them. She was our chauffeur, our tutor. She gave me the warmest hugs when I cried about the pettiest of things. She offered me a bond that no other person can recreate. Her garden withered away in the summer, with no one to take care of it. We miss her. Dad is doing okay, but we never really talk about how we feel without her.

    It's been almost two years and some days I find it hard to remember what her sounded, but other times I remember vivid moments that are burned into the back of my brain. I don't want anyone to ever forget her. I don't want to forget her In "The Fault In Our Stars", Augustus talked about how he feared oblivion. I don't fear oblivion for my sake, I fear it for hers. It's kind of selfish, really, but to someone who meant so much to me, I feel like it's almost rude to think someone would forget about all the wonderful memories she shared with us on Earth. I know that she wouldn't want me to "make a mountain out of a molehill" as she used to always say, but I just wanted to take the time to get some things off my chest.

    Today would've been her birthday. It always falls at the beginning of spring, which for sure was no coincidence. Her appreciation and passion for gardening and nature shows through my sister who tries so much to carry on her traditional garden in the backyard. She might not be good at it yet, but it's a nice thought. Sometimes I still hear her feet come through the front door when she'd normally get off from work. Now dad doesn't even get home until later. I see her in the sunsets on a good day when I remember to look outside, and sky is every shade of purple, pink, and orange. 

    I see her everywhere, except in her room next to my dad. I see her everywhere except when she won't be next to my dad when I graduate. As much as it pains me to know she's gone in the flesh, I know she is with me more than ever in heaven. And she's holding me tight as I type these words. I'm sorry that the post man doesn't deliver to heaven. I miss the homemade cards I'd make her every year for every holiday. I hope they serve her a cake up in heaven, and they even let her watch LOST too. I can't wait to see her again one day.

Love always,

Allison