Mom’s 80th birthday

Poppy brought his dog, my sister and one of my sons to my office today so we could go visit Mom on her birthday. She would have been 80.

My sister and I don’t go to the cemetary by ourselves. Poppy says we don’t have to wait for him to go, that we can go on our own, but, we don’t want to.

Today was a busy funeral day at DFW National Cemetery. No matter how efficiently they queue everyone up in A, B, C or D line to neatly process to their designated covered shelter, no matter how orderly the rows of makers are, it’s still sad. It’s all so final.

The Patriot Guard was there, which I love. I love to see tough-looking bikers on their big ol’ hogs exhibiting tenderness.

There was a group of 150 cars. I think that was for a high-ranking Air Force officer. The first volley of the 21 gun salute made me jump. Taps made my sister cry.

Mama would complain that when her birthday fell on Mother’s Day she got ripped off because she only got one present instead of two. Now I’m the one who is ripped off because I don’t have a mother any more. I take her little urn with me in my purse, which really isn’t the same as having her here, and it might be a little creepy. But, we do what we have to do, don’t we?

Dang it. I sure miss her.

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