Today's the day. You would have blown out 52 candles today.

This day has haunted me for weeks now. What do I do on a day that we celebrated your birth into this world, now that you're no longer here? If you were here, it would be easy. I would make a cake: white cake with chocolate frosting, your favorite. The entire family would gather to celebrate just you. Your love for everyone is so evident that we all would be so overjoyed to sit together and do whatever you wanted to do (probably have a BBQ and play cards).

There are tons of days that you have missed that you would have loved to been here for, and I would have given anything for you to be here. Your birthday makes me think of my 21st birthday, just a few months ago. You always talked about being there to buy me my first beer; you didn't make it, but I thought of you and how much you would have loved to be there the entire day. Not only am I waiting for that beer, but I'm still waiting for the punchline to that joke you said you would tell me when I'm older; now I'm older, and no one can remember the punch line. As soon as I reach those pearly gates, you better have a beer in hand and a damn good punchline that makes the lifetime of waiting for it worth it.

Everything I think about boils down to this: I miss you and wish you were with us. I try to remind myself that those who live on in our hearts and memories never truly leave us, but it's hard here without you. When I have a bad day, no on can make it better like you could with a root beer float piled high with whipped cream. Now when I have a cooking question, I have to google it. I don't get the good homemade advice that only a loved one who spent hours in the kitchen could give. I miss the hugs; I miss the undying support; I miss the laughs; I miss your presence.

If I could have one more day with you, it would be your birthday. What better day to celebrate you and let you know how loved you are and how much we miss you. So today, on your birthday, I will still celebrate you. I will bake a white cake with chocolate frosting, of course. I will spend time with the family because I know you cherished them and every moment you had with them, and so do I. I will go for a drive in the country with the windows down because you loved the wind and sun on your face. I will love life today and every day because that's exactly how you taught me to live this great gift I've been given. I'll never know when the last time I wake up will be, so I promise I'll live this life to the fullest and live without fear (except for spiders; you never could convince me they are more scared of me than I am of them). Every year on your birthday I will renew this promise because even if you were still here, I know that would be exactly what you would wish for when you'd blow out your candles.

In loving memory of Mary Lewis on her birthday.