Dear momma,

Happy Birthday! You would be 70 years old today. I can't imagine you at this age, but, of course, it's been hard to imagine you at any age older than 65, which is how old you were when you left this world.

I think of you often. Sometimes it's every day. Sometimes I go a little longer before you cross my mind. But, there's hardly a time when you're not in my thoughts especially since I cannot look around even a single room of my home without being reminded of you.

So much has happened and changed since you've been gone. Amelia is almost eight years old and is so smart, so kind, and so beautiful. She is so technologically-savvy, loves to read and is a free-thinker with an independent streak. She remembers you fondly and has quite a few memories of you. She has often said she wishes you wouldn't of died.

Lola is a doll who loves music, playing dress-up, and being outside. She's a momma's girl through-and-through, but is crazy for her daddy. Lola is just now beginning to grasp who you are to her. Thanks to Amelia sharing what she remembers of you, Lola has an idea of how much she's missing out on by not having you in her life.

Jeff and I will be married 14 years in a few months. Our love has grown so much and is, I think, stronger than ever. He's moved up the ladder in his career and is doing a fantastic job providing for me and the girls. In fact, he's now at a point where his income covers our bills and allows us to enjoy some of the little extras that make life a bit happier.

I am just as fat as when you last saw me, which I know would be a huge disappointment for you. Additionally, I now have full-blown diabetes, high cholesterol and hypertension. All of it scares the crap out of me, but I have a hard time putting a plan in place to lose enough weight so that all these things might go away. I always fall back into my old habits, which sickens me because of the terrible example I am setting for my girls. I don't want to die at 43 of heart disease like daddy, but I've put myself on that path and feel powerless sometimes to do anything about it.

I am still at home with the girls. It's really hard sometimes - like when they're fighting like wild animals- but I'd rather be here than anywhere else. I haven't had any desire to return to work, and I often wonder if I ever will. Most of the time I feel like I am doing exactly what I was intended to do.

There's still so much I wish I could tell you and ask you. I often find myself wondering about things that I did as a child so I could compare my girls' to how I was when I was little, but you're not here for me to ask you about any of it or anything else. I pine for the long phone conversations we used to have and miss having a connection to another person who knew me so well. Sometimes the loneliness is overwhelming.

Also, I still feel really guilty that you died when we had been fighting. I hate knowing we didn't speak in the days leading up to your death. I also detest the fact that you died alone and weren't discovered for two days. I suppose I will carry this guilt to my grave.

More than anything, though, I wish you had either never started smoking or had quit long ago so that maybe you might still be with us. Your death, though, provided me with the opportunity to teach my girls how horrible smoking is and the terrible things it does to the human body. I guess that's your legacy. I hope and pray they apply to their own lives what I've taught them and never take up this filthy habit.

It's still so tough not having you here, but it's easier than it was right after you died. I figure I won't ever get over losing you, but will just continue to adjust to living without you.

I love you forever. Your only child,
Brandy