BIRTHDAY BLUES


Dear Son,

You would have been 49 years old today.
Still in the prime of life.
This morning, as I prepared the incense holder in the Greek tradition, the tears rolled, unbidden, copiously down my face. I sat on the bed where you died, and talked to your picture.  By now, you should be tired of me saying the same words, over and over again.


I miss you.  I love you. Did you understand how much I loved you? If only you had needed a kidney, a heart, some organ that I could have given to you to make you healthy.  All so unfair!!!! Such a waste.


I wonder who else might be thinking about you today? Your Dad and I just looked at each other sharing our sadness and pain.  No one to call him and be silly on a morning phone call.

I really miss your voice, George.  You had a melodic and soothing voice.  Every time I heard, "Hi, Mom, whatcha doing?", I was happy.

The same words, the same thoughts over and over again.  And, identifying with all the parents who have lost a child.  Knowing how many of us are hurting, suffering, broken in a special way that only we know.  

I wrote in blue today, your favorite color. I didn't bake a cake.
For what reason?  On this day, St. George's day, as you knew, my dessert is deep, never ending grief.

Be at peace, my wonderful son.  Be at peace.