Till I’m 33 years old. It will be the second year I don’t hear from my mother, and I’m already dreading it. I know that sounds horribly dramatic, but after my grandmother died a few years ago, my mom has been the person that calls, never fail.

Until last year.

My phone sat eerily silent all day. 10 am…noon. 3 pm…. then 6. Dinner came and went. The lump in my throat grew to the point I thought I’d just finally stop swallowing successfully. My boyfriend was his usual disaster self on holidays, and blew the entire thing. I sat all day just thinking I’d either lost my mind or was finally standing up for what I believed in (myself) and finally dealing with the consequences of having faith in my beliefs. I admit I spent the day unbearably depressed and wishing I could be living anyone elses life but mine.

Then all of a sudden… the phone rang.

It was my little brother… calling to wish me a happy birthday.

It took a few minutes for me to be able to speak, and he apologized over and over again because it was late. I laughed and told him I was ashamed he was so much better at remembering birthdays than all us sisters. Our Grandma Elaine always called… and since she passed away, my brother has called me We really are so lucky to have him