One More

Today is my mother’s birthday, she turns 72. She doesn’t know what year it is, she cannot speak, she cannot move on her own or feed herself. Yet her heart is beating, just like it has been for the past 72 years. All I wish for on her birthday is one more day, one more hour, one more minute with her before this disease stole her from me. One more embrace in her warm arms, one more visit with treats for her grand babies and one for her baby girl. One more laugh; that loud, boisterous, laugh. One more drive with her flossing her teeth at the stop light-which I swore I would never do-I do! One more flower planted randomly in my yard, one more scolding, one more cry. One more sign that she knows who I am and how much she loves me. One more hand in mine. This is what haunts me every day and every day I wake up and face the day without her physically interacting in my life.  And on this day, May 9^th, your favorite day of the year, I wish for you mom, no pain, no fear, just peace. Selfishly for me, I wish you were able to look me in my eyes and say my name one more time, the way you would every day of my life. Happy Birthday Mom.