Happy Birthday

I remember you when I'm kneeling in front of the cross.

I remember you when I'm driving on unfamiliar roads, when you were the one I'd call when I got lost.

I remember you when I see cookie, when you'd hug her no matter how stinky she gets.

I remember you when it's August, when you'll ask us to go out for dinner, when you don't tell us you want a present. But your face lights up like a child during Christmas when we give you something.

I've been thinking about how you would be like today. I'm thinking you'd probably be complaining about how you've reached the big 3-0 and yet at the same time kick anyone who'd even try to suggest that you were getting old.

I remember you every single day.

It's been six months, but it feels like yesterday.

Every single memory recollected is so clear.

If you're happy now, it's all that matters.

But I would never know until I see you again.

And though God's gifts are greater than one could ever imagine, I still wished it'd never happened.

Happy Birthday to the one who would always be 29.