I still mother them….

Monday is coming.

September 28th.

My daughter Gabriella’s 36th birthday.

I’ve been watching this date get closer on the calendar, and I don’t really know how you’re supposed to prepare for your child’s birthday when your child isn’t here to celebrate it.

Gab died on April 3rd from an overdose.

It hasn’t even been six months.

And now I’m facing her first birthday without her.

I keep thinking about what I would normally be doing. I would be asking Gab what she wanted for dinner even though I already knew the answer. Chicken cutlets and eggplant parm. At home.

Then there would be the cake question.

Red velvet or carrot cake?

With my daughter, the answer very well could have been BOTH.

Those are the things running through my head as Monday gets closer. Not the big things. The little things.

Cooking for my daughter.

Buying her cake.

Hearing her voice.

Watching her with Gianna and Adriano.

Probably getting aggravated about something because that’s what mothers and daughters do, and then moving right along because that’s also what mothers and daughters do.

I would give anything for even that.

I would give anything to have her sitting at my table waiting for her chicken cutlets and eggplant parm.

That’s the part of grief people don’t always talk about. You don’t only miss the person. You miss the ordinary.

You miss the phone calls. You miss cooking their favorite food. You miss hearing them walk through the door. You miss being annoyed. You miss worrying about them. You even miss the things you once wished would change.

Because when they’re gone, you would take every single bit of it back.

Monday my daughter should be 36.

I don’t want her birthday to be about the way she died. April 3rd is already a date that I will carry for the rest of my life.

September 28th is different.

September 28th is the day Gabriella came into my life.

It’s the day I became her mom.

So as hard as Monday is going to be, I want to remember HER.

Gab.

Gianna and Adriano’s mom.

Vincent’s sister.

My daughter.

The girl who wanted chicken cutlets and eggplant parm for her birthday dinner and couldn’t necessarily be trusted to choose between red velvet and carrot cake.

My daughter who was complicated and funny and stubborn and loved and human.

My daughter who mattered.

My daughter who still matters.

I don’t know exactly what Monday will look like yet.

I just know that there should be 36 candles somewhere.

There should be chicken cutlets and eggplant parm.

There should probably be two cakes.

And there should be my daughter.

That’s the part I can’t fix.

So Monday I will celebrate Gabriella the only way I know how now. I will say her name. I will tell her stories. I will remember the birthdays when she was here. I will love her children. And I will carry my daughter with me through a day that was always supposed to belong to her.

Happy almost 36th birthday, Gab.

I would give anything to be planning your dinner instead of figuring out how to celebrate your birthday without you.

Mom loves you.

Yesterday. Today. Monday.

And every day that comes after. ❤️