14 years now since you haven't had a birthday song

 Awake, and when it comes---I know to come write.  It is time to get all the words off my heart.  I have been trying hard to not get drug under the water with my sorrow...to stay afloat in the life I am trying to live...it seems to swirl in me and then more and more memories come and they begin to weigh my heart down and I fear to go with them into the depths of sorrow.  I fight to live well, awake, in love with my life, my art, my love.  So much to still live for.  Then there is the horror of the whole ordeal of you dying and being gone.  You brought such life and laughter and fullness--everytime you walked into the room.  You didn't know how to make a quiet entrance--it was as if you came into the moment with the sunshine.  There truly was no one like you.  I think back to the thousands of memories that only you and I knew about---the years of when it was just you and me.  It was hard when your dad left us and we began to make our own life, but we did.  And you grew up--and we had so much fun, even in the days that were just regular days.  We traveled and did things to bring more color to an ordinary growing up.  

I am so glad we made the choices to do things as you were gone so young, with so much left---that is the part that is so hard to not go there--so many things I knew you were looking forward to, memories to make, children to have...a career to fulfill...dreams and schemes...a franklin planner full of dates to fulfil with your friends, family, me and with Chris.  

So, here I am again, November 19, 2020...3:27 p.m.  42 years later.  I was waiting and probably couldn't sleep tonight all those years ago---uncomfortable with the weight of you in my belly...waiting to take your first of many breaths.  A parent should never bury their child...so many lines stated in movies...and it is true, but in my life, it has happened.  Rick never got to know you--and you would have loved him so much and he would have loved you too.  There is an emptiness in us that is missed.  But it is what it is and again, this date is right here before me...  It isn't  your death day, which is hard to even breath through since it just is....but it would be your birthday and you loved that day---you loved being celebrated-and you always loved celebrating the birthday's of those you loved...so on your birthday--why wouldn't it be all about you.  

Too many words to not type or say--too many detours to avoid to keep sane...too many places I almost see you and hear you. 

I know...you are safe in heaven and more glorious than I can even ever imagine...and that is a comfort...sometimes...and sometimes, not enough to hold me upright.  Tonight...I teeter on the edge of that fine line...

I'm glad I had all the minutes and days and years.  So, that is what I will celebrate again...what was given, as that is all you get...and again...the reminder to stay present, not in a bad way, but embracing what you have right now....I don't want to sound morbid or that I live in a way of waiting for the other shoe to drop...I did for quite sometime, but not now---I live well with full heart.  I stay away from these words I'm putting on this page...it is to hard to write more than once or twice a year.  I am wise with the use of them...it would drain me...leave me empty.  I feel the angel holding my shoulders and keeping me upright...saying, "don't stay too long here...leave these words here and live"

So, I loved it all Sarah...every moment.  even hard times...you were quite a handful at times...I don't think you knew you tested my last nerve as much as you did.  I knew you were a firecracker...and so full.  But, how proud I was of how you faced the sadness and sorrow of your dad leaving and him dying so young...and the other things too hard for your heart...you faced much and overcame and lived with a brightness many of us so loved and now miss.  

you loved to be sung to---even as a young child,  you had 5 songs...and if I didn't sing them all at bedtime, you would laughingly and in a knowing that was too young to know that this might someday be true---you would say to me, "mom, if I die, you will be so sad you didn't sing them all to me."  Wish I could sing to you again sweet Sarah C.  Miss you so.  I hope you somehow can know how much we all love you and miss you.  

mom