Breathe

Today is my son's seventh birthday.

There will be no birthday cake. No party, no silly hats, no presents stuffed in gift bags or wrapped in dollar store paper.

There is no boy to blow out the candles and spit all over the cake.

Breathe.

Instead, there is a mother who quietly mourns and wonders if she will ever find the thread to mend her broken heart.

A mother who mourns long after every one else has moved on.

A mom who has to remember to breathe through the hurt and push past the pain to appreciate what still remains.

Breathe.

It is a lonely day today.

Happy Birthday Bug. We miss you. More every damn day it seems.

Breathe.





May my kiss be carried to you by a thousand angel wings, Bug.