Your gift

Today's supposed to be your 9th birthday. Boys are so very cool at nine years old. I feel so strange this year, because my brain keeps wanting to imagine what you would be like-how tall you’d be, what your voice would sound like, if you’d play sports-all the typical things. But, my imagination hasn't pulled me to that unfullfilling, depressive, and fruitless thought pattern this birthday.

I realized I was just projecting my thoughts and plans for who you would be, truly a figment of my imagination. The reality is you look, act, and are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing at this age-its just beyond the scope of what I ever thought it could be the day you were born. I underestimated the magic you contained by only seeing you through the notion that babies and children are helpless and inexperienced. I did you a disservice by thinking you were small because of your size.

I ponder what Gift you would want this year. And I know there's so many things you want-that's why you decided to be born in the first place. You want more compassion for people who are deemed less than, you want people to see beyond the limits of physical life, you want people to see the magic they possess. But, I can't give you all of that, I'm just your mother.

But that's it-I'm just your mother, so there's only certain gifts I can give. And what I can give you is my voice. What would an angel want me to say? I'll do my best to find the words you want me to tell. The words that can make mothers see themselves the way their children do. The words that show death is an extension of life. The words that prove grief and emotions are part of being human-not mental illnesses that need to be resolved.

And of course I'll make you a cake, what's a birthday without cake?

Happy birthday my love 🎂

Ian Raymond 3/15/2015