reprinted with permission

February 23, 1996

Dear Son,

Its the day before your second birthday and I'm feeling worse than I expected. Maybe it's because I had only a few hours of sleep. I spent most of the night crying for you. I feel like it's my responsibility to make your birthday special. I've planned presents for the kids and I even arranged a plan for how we will spend your birthday. I planned on a balloon release at the cemetery and a picnic afterwards. Now I don't feel like doing anything... I don't want to be around anyone. Not even your sisters. It's hard for me to smile at them.

It's your birthday, and I'm your mom.. I'm supposed to make it special for you. Now I feel as though I'm letting you down. I drove to the cemetery today. My shoes are wet from the grass and my feet are cold but I don't care, they remind me that I was closer to you. I have dirt under my finger nail from the earth around your marker. I put it there so I could remember. I went into the flower shop where I bought the white roses for your funeral. I asked how much two white roses would cost. The price sounded too high so I walked out. I know that roses don't mean much to you, but they do to me.

I sat at the cemetery and tried to write you a poem. But it sounded wrong to me and I decided I didn't have the energy for fancy words and rhyme. I tried to sing Happy Birthday to You. It came out sad. I hope you didn't mind. I wish I could celebrate your birthday. I hope God throws you a wonderful party. Because your Mommy can't. She's too sad.

I love you,

Anonymous