There is a song by Snow Patrol called Chasing Cars that always reminds me of Bob, of his willingness to just be there for me. The sad and glad days, the silly and mad days, whatever it is I'm going through he's willing to (try at least) experience it with me. The words of the song ask: "If I lie here, if I just lie here would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

I have days where sadness overwhelms me. Days when I just want to retreat into my closet, curl up into a ball on the floor and cry my eyes out. If Bob happens to be home on those days, I try and "will" him upstairs to me. I want him to lie down beside me, to hold and comfort me as only he can.

Often he'll ask me what it is that's making me so sad. I usually answer, "I'm not sure, I thinks it's just everything...Brett. All the things I wish I would have done differently. The fact that my mom doesn't have anyone to lie down with her...just... everything." And the crying continues.

I know what I should be doing-- counting my blessings, forgetting the past and pressing on towards the goal and all that-- but sometimes I just need a good, cleansing cry. It's on those days that I am most thankful that I have someone that will "lie with me,  just lie there...and just forget the world."

Sweet Babe, thank you for putting up with me...the sad me, the mad me, the silly me, the real me and (the hardest one!)...the scared me. I cannot imagine doing life without you.

Happy Birthday.

My dad used to say he'd make sure the words "Oh well" were put on my mom's gravestone. You would have had to have grown up in our household to understand how bolstering and encouraging those words have been. More often than not, her "Oh well's" were followed with "God knows all about it" or "It'll all work out".

When my parents were newly married, my mom fell in love with a little dinette set...but it was too much money, and they didn't have much money so they couldn't justify buying it. When the Holidays rolled around, my dad decided to surprise her with it. He went out and bought it and strapped it onto his car. On his way home it broke loose, blew off the car and broke into a hundred pieces. He pulled over, picked up all the pieces and put them in his trunk. When he got home he asked my mom to come outside to see what he'd gotten her for Christmas. When she looked into the trunk and saw all the sticks, she asked him what it was.

"Kindling", he answered, "I bought you kindling for Christmas."
I can just hear his big laugh.
My mom's response? "Oh well."
She could have said something like, "You'd think, being an engineer and all, that you might have figured out a way to strap it down so it wouldn't blow off." But no, that wasn't her way.

Throughout their marriage there would be many times that my dad would hear the heartening "Oh well." Like the time he came home and said that their business had gone belly up and they didn't have two nickels to rub together. Her response? "Oh well.... It'll all work out."

All of us, probably me more than anyone else, have gotten our share of "Oh well's".
Me: "Mom...I totaled the car." Mom: "Oh well, the most important thing is that you're not hurt".
Me: "Mom...I've really made a mess of things." Mom: "Oh well, sometimes you just have to live and learn."
Me: "Mom...they're telling me my baby might be blind, that he'll never walk or talk or respond to us in any way."
I will never forget what she told me that time: "Honey, God is either sovereign or He isn't."
Those words somehow both calmed and comforted me. I repeat them to myself often. God is either sovereign or He isn't.

I know there couldn't be a grandchild in the whole world who gets more kisses from their grandmother than Brett does (and he's not always happy about them either). I have a vision of my perfect, handsome Brett (who looks so much like his daddy), coming up to my mom in Heaven and telling her that all those kisses were a little over the top.

I've been thinking the secret is to my mom's incredible strength and joy in spite of all she's been through and I've decided the key is gratitude. She has never stopped being grateful. Last Sunday was the anniversary of my dad's home-going. When I went over to see her that day, I wasn't thinking about the date and I wondered why she seemed down. She said she was having a hard time believing my dad had been gone 12 years and said, "there aren't too many people..."

I thought for sure she was going to say that there aren't too many people who have had to endure the heartache she has, but no, I should have known better.

She said, "there aren't too many people that can say they had over 40 wonderful years with the man of their dreams, or experienced the joy and laughter that your dad and I did."

That's my mom, always looking on the bright side and always being thankful.

Happy Birthday Mom...I do love you so!