Keeping Mom's Love Alive on Her Birthday

Today is my mom's birthday. It's the 4th one we're honouring without her here, rather than properly celebrating. 

Every year has been challenging in its own way. The first birthday without her, I was angry and bitter at the world for taking my mom. I cried my eyes out most of the day, unable to wrap my head around how something so unfair could happen. The second year wasn't much different. I had more time to process my grief, but on a day meant to be all about her... it just felt wrong. Wrong that life could keep going without her in it.

Last year was a little easier. I've become more intentional with my grief. I don't let it bottle up and explode on holidays. I also talk about her openly and often, and I honour the ways she would have loved to be part of our daily lives every single day, not just on the hard ones.

One of the things I'm most grateful for is a tradition I started on Mom's first birthday after she passed. Every year, I bake cupcakes and spend the afternoon decorating them with my niece and nephew. Buy-in was obviously easy because kids and cupcakes are a natural match, but it became so much more than sprinkles and frosting. It became a space where I could talk about "Gramma" with them, where her love could keep weaving itself into their lives even if she's not physically here. It matters to me that they know her, not just in stories, but in feeling. And when my little one arrives, she'll join the tradition too.

This year, while we decorated cupcakes, I found myself thinking that even if my niece and nephew can't recall the details: the sound of her laugh, the way she hugged and told them that she loved them, the silly things she'd say... I hope they remember the feeling she emanated. The warmth, the safety, and the unconditional love. 

That's the thing about my mom. Everyone who spent time with her walked away feeling loved. And that's the part of her I want to keep alive the most.