I'm sure I would call or text her in the morning. I'd probably give her a shout out on Facebook....something like: "Happy Birthday to the most self-less, loving mom and grandma there is." Her page would undoubtedly be flooded with wonderful birthday wishes. We would probably go out to dinner as a family...I'm thinking, Pasta House? She's get their salad and, of course, the pasta con broccoli. I would probably give her a gift that involved her grand kids...maybe a picture book or a nice framed picture of her and the three of them. She would love it. My son would want to sit on her lap and she would - lovingly, eagerly, selflessly - allow him to - sit, climb, squirm - as much as he wanted. But he probably wouldn't squirm too much on her lap. He would be calm and comforted in her arms as most babies were (I often thought of her as a baby whisperer). We'd have cake and ice cream...or maybe an ice cream cake. We'd laugh.
I would marvel at this woman who is my mom. I would wonder how she did it. How she raised three kids while working full time. How she managed to grow with her husband through all the ups and downs of their relationship...more in love today than when they first met. How wonderful she is with her grand kids and how blessed they are to be loved by her. How she showed (and continues to show) Christ's love to all she encounters. I would be overcome with relief and joy and gratefulness that she is my mom. That I get to learn from her. That I get to be loved by her. That I can be friends with her now instead of only just her daughter.
It would be lovely.
Instead...I will celebrate the life my mom lived and the legacy of love she left behind. I will still be overcome with relief, joy and gratefulness that she was my mom and that I get to hold tight to the memory of her. I will be blessed by the people who share with me memories of my mom, as she touched so many lives. I will tell my son about his wonderful grandma Rhonda who loves him so much. I might cry a little. But mostly, I'll be happy that she was born on April 10, 1961. That she fell in love with a guy with an afro in high school and then eventually married him. That she followed God's calling on her life to become a teacher. That she gave birth to my two brothers and myself. That she was beautiful even at her worst. That she loved so easily and completely. And that I got to spend 17 years of my life with her.
Happy birthday, Mom.
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