Her birthday is next week.

My body knows.  My grief knows.  

Another year without her.  It is another year that she would not have aged.  Forever 60 years old.

Even the birthdays that are not hers are milestones where her presence is missed.  A gaping hole left by the one who would have made / picked up the cake, wrote the birthday cake, decorated the room and carefully picked up and wrapped the gifts with care.  She made the celebrations happen.  She made the celebration happy.

I now choke up when we sing "happy birthday"; filled with pain, sadness and guilt that I am singing a lie.  Is it truly happy without her?

I miss you mom.