My First Birthday Without My Mom

There are birthdays you celebrate, and then there are birthdays that simply remind you of what you’ve lost.

Today is my first birthday without my mom.

Wow… it’s hard.

My mom never forgot a birthday. Not once. She made sure I felt celebrated, loved, and seen every single year of my life.

When I was a little girl, she would make my favorite homemade peach cobbler. I can still smell it baking in the oven and remember how special it made me feel. As I grew older, the tradition changed, but her heart never did. Every birthday, she would hand me a crisp $100 bill and say, “Go buy yourself something special.”

When my children were little, I would always think about spending it on them. She knew me so well that she’d smile and say, “This money is for you. Don’t spend it on your babies. They’re fine.”

She wanted me to know that I mattered too.

This year there was no birthday card tucked into the mail. No $100 bill waiting for me. No phone call telling me she loved me. No handwritten words reminding me how proud she was of me.

One of my favorite things she would say was, “God has a great plan for your life, and I’m so glad I get to see it.”

She loved watching what God was doing in my life. She celebrated my calling, especially in this season of retirement as I serve the Lord and minister to His daughters. She believed in me, prayed for me, and reminded me to keep walking faithfully.

Today, I miss everything.

I miss her hugs.

I miss her voice.

I miss the way she smelled.

I miss our conversations.

I miss knowing that no matter what was happening in life, my mom would remember my birthday.

As I sit here in my parents’ home with tears running down my face, something else fills my heart.

Gratitude.

Because I still have my dad.

Today, I have another opportunity to love him, serve him, laugh with him, and simply be present. That is a gift I refuse to overlook. Loss has a way of teaching us what truly matters. It reminds us that every ordinary day with the people we love is actually extraordinary.

Grief has also taught me something else.

Life is simply too short to hold on to bitterness.

So today, on my birthday, instead of asking for gifts, I’d like to offer a challenge.

Who have you pushed away?

Who have you cut out of your life because of hurt, disappointment, pride, or the need to be right?

I’m not talking about situations that require healthy boundaries or protection from abuse. Those are real and necessary. But so many relationships end over misunderstandings, offenses that were never discussed, or pride that refuses to take the first step.

What if today was your last opportunity?

Would being right still matter?

Would winning the argument still feel important?

Or would you simply wish for one more conversation… one more hug… one more chance to say, “I love you.”

Heaven has a way of changing our perspective.

The older I get, and especially after losing my mom, I’m realizing that love is always the better choice. Forgiveness is always worth pursuing. Grace is never wasted.

If someone you love is still here, call them.

Visit them.

Forgive them if you can.

Tell them you love them.

Don’t assume there will always be another birthday, another holiday, another tomorrow.

There won’t always be.

Today my heart aches, but it is also full.

Full of memories.

Full of gratitude.

Full of hope.

Because while I miss my mom more than words can express, I know this separation is only temporary. My faith reminds me that this isn’t goodbye forever. One glorious day, I will see her again.

Until then, I’ll keep living the life she believed God had planned for me.

And maybe… just maybe… I’ll bake a peach cobbler today.

It won’t taste quite like hers.

But it will remind me that love has a beautiful way of living on.

Love,

Tricia