Happy Mourning

This happens every year. I write a whole post on Instagram, or Facebook, or this blog, only for it not to save. The frustration is overwhelming: I spend all day long trying to come up with just the right words to express my feeling about today, and then, just like that, they're gone.

I feel like, in some cruel way, it represents me sending the words just to her. Only she and God know the true words of my heart, and the rest of the world is left wondering what raw emotion I managed to evoke. And each year, it gets harder and harder to find those words. One would think that grief would get easier as time goes on, but over the last 19 years, as I grow older, this day just keeps getting harder.

I spent the last 2 hours typing my birthday message to my mother, but I somehow feel fake attempting to recreate those genuine words for you now. The gist: she was a flower plucked from the garden too early, but you only pick the prettiest, most opened, blossomed flowers to take home. I may have lost a mother, but God gained another angel. So on this day, I say happy mourning for the life I lived without you by my side Momma T, and Happy Birthday to my gorgeous flower.