Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I am 34. I like having birthdays, I like the cake, the gifts, the party hats, and all the hoopla. Although, birthdays are fun, mine are bittersweet.

My sister, Sheryl, always had to be the first person to wish me a happy birthday. She even went as far as calling me really early in the mornings when I was in college. That was her thing. For the last 9 years I haven't received a call. She died in 1998, in an accident. Birthdays have not been the same.

When she first died I didn't know what the worst day of the year would be. Would it be the day she died? Or would it be her birthday? Or would it be Christmas or Thanksgiving? Nope, none of those...it is my birthday. I think about her a lot and miss her all of the time, but this day is the worst. The first couple years after she died I would actually be sick feeling every time the phone would ring, because I knew it wasn't her. After 9 years, it has gotten better, but it is still hard.

God blessed me with having a sister 15 years older than me. She was my second mother. She loved me unconditionally. She loved me more than anyone else (this was before Tommy and girls). She was the best friend that you could always count on. She was awesome. She was my big sister and always will be. I know if she could she would have been the first to call today.