I miss her. Today more than all the others, obviously. She would have turned 49 years old...Aunt Debbie would have made her favorite birthday treat...a cherry chip cake with lots of extra frosting. We would have belted the birthday song and rounded it out with, "...and maaaany mooooore!" as she extinguished the charitable truncation of candles adorning the frosting-heavy monstrosity. We wished her the same last year, and it didn't so much work...but if Cancer can be vanquished by sheer determination and will, hers would have been. I think just about any one of us would have gladly taken her place, standing there at Death's threshold...she was just that kind of woman.

I feel as though I'm living on a treadmill of dejà vu. Everything seems to be a replay of an event that's already happened, every feeling of worthlessness and uselessness renewing their plug for airtime. I have my surgical follow up this Friday, and I'm terrified a horned demon is going to jump from a cabinet and tell me that I have Cancer after all. Forgive me for not accepting good news as the final word...we had lots of good news with Mom.

For instance, the Fall of 2003 when they removed 17 tumors from her body and the surgeon (and, incidentally, by design, my surgeon), told us she was Cancer free that day in the waiting room. I remember going to the chapel and sobbing my thanks to God. We thought remission was possible in those days...I even remember Debbie buying Mom a Cancer Sucks tee...Chris McHugh had passed away just a few months earlier, and she was a local hero...still is, really. I remember Mom's reaction in opening the garment box, just days before her surgery...her mouth offered a parody of a smile as she said, "I don't plan on having Cancer much longer."

See, this is all before they dropped the bomb: "Liela, you will never be Cancer free...but you have a solid 15 years left." And two years later...well, you know the rest. And one just cannot forget the seeming wonderful news at the end of last December...that her tumors ceased in their growth. The Cancer was going away? Awesome!

A month later, we greeted friends and family at her memorial service.

Last year on the fourteenth, I remember attending church and then coming home to a birthday celebration to rival the return of Caesar to his beloved Rome. We were all so happy, soaking in the blessing of just a little more time...always just a little more time. I miss her hugs and her voice...I miss her soft skin and her sparkling smile...I miss her silliness and her seriousness both. I miss her ears, always open and happy to let me philosophize...and I miss the best parent, nurturer, and friend anybody could ever know. Happy Birthday, Momma...keep looking out for me, will you? I still need you.