I turn 33 today. It's not a particularly special birthday, but my husband has been extraordinarily sweet this week, presenting me with daily gifts (flowers, a CD, a book, chocolate) since Monday. He knows that it while 33 isn't a big deal, this birthday is a milestone for me. It's my first birthday without Mami.
I've received dozens of emails and texts and calls, but the call I want the most will never come again.
Despite that sad fact, I feel blessed. I feel grateful. I feel content. I dreamed of Mami this week, and it was the best gift of all. I can hear her cheery voice in my head, joking about all the weight she gained with my pregnancy, and how I was such a beautiful, black-haired baby. I hear her voice in my head, and I smile.