I still mother them….

People complain about getting older all the time. The wrinkles. The aches. The gray hair. The birthdays that seem to come faster every year.

But every time I catch myself doing it, I think about Vincent. I think about Gabriella. I think about the hundreds of names I’ve read at Overdose Awareness Day. I think about the parents I’ve hugged at funerals. They didn’t get the privilege of growing old. They didn’t get another birthday.

Getting older isn’t something we’re promised. It’s a gift.

This birthday was exactly what my heart needed, even though I didn’t know it. I was surrounded by some of the people who love me the most. My biggest cheerleaders. The people who don’t expect me to hold it all together. I didn’t have to wear the mask. I didn’t have to be okay. I didn’t have to fix anything. I just got to be somebody’s sister.

There’s something so healing about being with people who love you exactly as you are. People who let you laugh one minute and cry the next without asking questions. After everything these last few months have brought, I realized how long it’s been since I truly let myself exhale.

My favorite dinner. My favorite meal. My favorite cake. My favorite song. Happy Birthday being sung around a table filled with people who have loved me my whole life. It wasn’t about presents or turning 60. It was about feeling safe. It was about feeling loved.

And somewhere between the laughter, the music, and the cake, something happened that I honestly can’t remember feeling in a very long time.

Peace.

Not because I wasn’t missing Vincent and Gabriella. I miss them every second of every day. But for one beautiful evening, the weight I carry every day felt just a little lighter.

Sixty doesn’t feel old to me tonight.

It feels like a privilege.

One that so many people I love never got to have. And I don’t plan on wasting a single day of it. 💜