April showers

Happy birthday, Mom.

You’d be 56 today. Since you died, you got yourself two more descendents. Brock is so big and looks just like Hope. Sanna is tiny, but she looks just like you. Of course, she looks like me, too.

Remember how much Hannah looked like me when she was tiny? Sanna looks even more like me. Hannah is still mistaken for my child from time to time, and well, the whole thing is a little creepy (or as Hannah says, “Creeky”).

What, exactly, did you do to ensure that all of your female descendents would look just like you?

(I know; I don’t have a baby picture of myself online. Isn’t that odd?)

You’d love Sanna. She’s sweet and smart. She has the best smile, and she’s way snuggly. After Sanna was born, Brooke’s mom emailed Brooke and said, “Now you know how much I love you.” Now that I know how deep love can be—and I’ll admit that I knew nothing of it before—I understand so much more about how you felt to tell me your diagnosis. I understand your tears every time I had to go back home when you were sick. It hurts to leave her every day so I can go to work, and I can’t imagine how much you ached to see me leave.

Hope overheard Hannah telling a playmate about you. “That’s Grandma Suz,” she said, pointing at your picture. “She’s in Heaven, and it’s fun there.”

I hope so.