Happy birthday, Mom. We’re still here, living our lives as best we can. Hoping you’d be proud.
We’re still here, missing you. Remembering the Christmases you made special. The way you always overstressed just so everything would be perfect. And it seemed to somehow work.
And we’re still here, still wishing you were, too. No matter how many years you’ve been gone it still feels like yesterday. Like you might walk in the house any minute wearing that mile-wide smile of yours.
Like you might dance to whatever song came on the radio, not caring how goofy you looked. And we’re still here. Wishing you were, too.