Happy Birthday, Pipo

Today would have been your 56th birthday.

I would have made you a chocolate cake, as I normally did on this day.

I would have been able to smile and and sing to you that little song that I take for granted on my own birthday.

Even if it weren't your birthday, I still would have been able to do so many things if you were still within my grasp. I would have been able to tell you the things that are on my mind, the thoughts that have been haunting me. I would have been able to cry on your shoulder. You would have been able to tell me that everything would be all right.

I would have been able to tell you that I love you very, very much.

And I still do, Pipo.

But today, I will not make you a chocolate cake nor will I sing you "Happy Birthday." I will try to find a way to smile, but it won't be because you are here.

If I do smile, it is because I will think of the things and people for whom I am grateful to still have with me. If I do smile, it is because I remember the most cherished memories that I have of your smile, your laugh, your voice. If I do smile, it is because I know you would be proud of me for what I am as a person. I owe that to you.

I love you very, very much, Pipo. I always will.

Your daughter