I'm stuck.  Yup, not afraid to admit it and easily frustrated when others try and help by seemingly trying to clean off my stuck tires with a bucket of water.  Good intentions, just painfully not practical at the moment.  I guess there is a time and place and today is not the time and sitting on a hill is probably not the best place.  But... hey... in the larger picture - who cares?

The genuine question of the day, though is - how one can go about saying Happy Birthday to someone who still holds a huge place in your heart?  I'm caught up on the little things, and therefore - struggling to find the right words.  

Do you have any idea how magnificent the birthday greetings need to be for that one person who refused to give up on you, even when you would curse her under your breath, hide under the blankets, and tell them outright - you don't want to live in that state of health anymore?  What about for that person who unselfishly scheduled their work day around you: they dropped you off (in a rather grumpy state) in the morning for treatment, offered each and every day to stay and hold your hand, and was ALWAYS on the other end of the "magic cell phone" when you called in tears or jubilation, and asked her to come and get you... and who would leave work to come and get you?  For that person who would take you home, make the best grilled cheese in the world, fill your fuzzy hot water bottle, wrap you in a blanket, and sit with you - not leaving until you were completely past out?  

What do you say to the person who reacted the same, motherly way to dress shopping as she did to wig shopping, "YOU LOOK AMAZING" and then always follow it up by, "FOR REAL!" because you never felt as amazing as they described... or to the person who held you back from almost punching a lady in a busy store who misunderstood your gender by judging you solely on the ball cap you wore?  How can "happy birthday" be enough for the person who helped you break the rules, threw "chemo parties" and ever so gently, shaved the remaining few hairs from your head so that they wouldn't have to fall out?

For the individual who laid on your bed and read you chapters from Lord of the Rings so you could fall asleep on those difficult nights, and who never complained when your nightmares and endless tears about the dismal future brought her into your dark room... just to rub your back, dry your tears, and console you as best she could - how on earth, do you wish them a happy birthday?  

This is the lady who, as we sped to the hospital, put her seat all the way back, held your terrified hand and sung "You Are My Sunshine" over and over and over again; the person you left your provincial discernment meeting early for - so that you wouldn't miss one of the most important days of her life.  

She is the person you spent almost all day with, for the better part of two years... but also the mum you have only seen once since August.  

Somehow, the pathetic phrase, "Happy Birthday Mum" just isn't enough.