This is about the time of the morning where I would get the call from you - the birthday call.
Every year on my birthday I would get my special birthday wish from you.
The main subject was how difficult your labor was and how my big head had to be slowly extracted from you using forceps (this was 1962, almost medieval conditions).And how dad had to drive you in the '57 Chevy to the hospital (Lake County East, no Hillcrest until 1967) in the rain, snow, thunder and lightning.
And how the hospital was working on backup electrical generators during my deliver.
Always sounded exciting. I was there, but I don't remember any of it.
I always found it funny the obstetrician that deliver me was Dr. Thanos, whose name is uncomfortably closes to 'thanatos,' Greek for 'death.'
So I came into this world with a lot of sturm and drang but you would always tell me that despite all of it, you were the happiest person in the world when I was born and that you always loved me and always would.
It's been five years since I've gotten that call and frankly I miss it. You were still alive four years ago on my birthday but had lost the ability to communicate. But I knew what you were thinking.
I miss the call. I still in some weird way, wait for it.
I hope that wherever you are (and if anyone could walk in Heaven's front door, it would be you) I hope you're not too disappointed in me and how it all turned out.
And I know you would say "I could never be disappointed in you."
I know.
Sing Sto lat in Heaven for me today mom.
