March 1

Today is my grandmother's birthday.

I lost her on March 10, 2010.

My life hasn't been the same.

She was the brightest light in my life.

She inspired me to write and I would spend weekends at her house, lounging in her office/home library.

She brought me back from the brink of a suicidal spiral at the age of 16 and let me move back in with her when life at home with my mother became toxic.

Grandmother Bea grew up during the Depression. She was a gifted writer, but life and its responsibilities found her a single mother with three children under the age of five in the early 1940s.

She celebrated my academic endeavors and steered me toward becoming an independent thinker. When I moved to Dallas and landed my job at the radio station, she was so proud and came to visit whenever she traveled for business. And when I called to tell her that she was going to be a great-grandmother for the first time, she was delighted, even though I wasn't officially married at the time.

We were supposed to be having her 90th birthday celebration in March of 2010 with a huge family reunion when she suddenly took ill.
I spent three days at the hospital by her side. I held her hand and looked in those beautiful blue eyes and said, "I'll be okay. I love you so much. I'm right here." as they wheeled her into the emergency ICU unit.

And just like that, she was gone.

When March 1 rolls around, it's bittersweet for me. I can hear her voice in my head so clearly:
"We came here to have fun! Now, dammit, let's have some fun!"

Happy birthday, Grandmother Bea. I miss you.

I promise—I'm having fun.