Today is not her birthday

March 11, 2009

Today is not her birthday. Only as much as the sun rises and chases the moon away or the stars are hung in the sky is it so. Perspective. And I am sick of mine and jealous of hers. Since that day in August, I have often thought that was a day of celebration. In spite of the intense anguish, the imminent lonliness and insistent tears on my end; I don’t have the capacity to comprehend how that day must have been for her. To come face to face with the artist of such beauty and the redeemer of what was made of it. I can only look forward to that day when death calls me to life. I can’t help but think that we have so much backwards here. Sure, today marks a memory of her beginning to an end, which in truth, is the actual beginning. But, it is no different from any other day since she left. Today I cry. Today I kiss her face and fog the glass that holds it. Today I ask God to tell her that I love her. Today Linen will kiss her picture and ask me to sing MaMa’s Eyes. Today I struggle to be the mother that she was and the father she inspired me to be. Today is like everyday since she really began life, unadulterated by all sorts of pain. I look forward to joining my bride as we both become a part of the bride and death is a joke and tears are less than a memory. That is a day of birth. Today is not. Today is a memory, a falsely held perception, caused by falleness and an earthly perspective. Today is not her birthday.


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