Birthdays, starting with the very first, the day you were born. Dad and I knew how blessed we were when we held you, your sisters knew how blessed they were when they saw you...and the rest is history! How could anyone BE more excited about one special day in the year than you were. You created the "This is my birthday WEEKEND"...if your birthday fell on a Friday, Saturday or Sunday, it meant we had to be extra nice to you all three days!

(The words to "Dream a Little Dream of Me" are at the bottom of the page)

Dearest Mike: As we approach our first birthday without you here with us, we all continue to love you so and to miss you more than could ever be put into words. We have been without you here, physically, for almost a year now, but we know and we believe that you are here with us spiritually...all of your little special moments when you let us know you are near...these mean so much to all of us. You will always be with us, Mike, in our hearts, and in our lives...every day. We hope that you are happy, that you have met and are walking with your eternal Father, and we believe that we will all be together again, one day, in your world, for eternity.

You left a lot of yourself behind with us Mike...all your children carry some part of you...your sense of humor; your sense of life; your sense of love; your courage. Your faith. Happy birthday, my sweet and precious son, know that you are in my heart always. love, Mom

yes, we got your message about the tickets....

Yes, my sweet, we will be at Fenway, as you asked, celebrating your LIFE, on the 19th, part of your "BIRTHDAY WEEKEND..." Dad, Cathi, Jamie, Kameron, Chandler, Davis, myself, and Denis, will all be there, just as you asked. And, as you know, we will be sitting right in the same area that you and I were sitting when you asked me to be sure to be there for your birthday, as you so gently put it "after I'm dead." Mike, we love you and miss you!

Mike with dad, at game, 09 09 06

Mike. A year without you is approaching fast, and there's not a day or hour that I don't think of you...I wear some of your ashes around my neck and everytime I see a "punch buggy" I tap your ashes. I see your smiling face every time I open my cell phone, and greet you with "Hi, Mike!". Like you don't know that, right? I love you, son, and miss you an awful lot. Dad

Cathi, in a daze at the end of her first game at Fenway...a truly exciting one, from start to finish

Well Mike, you got me - Happy Birthday, I'm now hooked on the Sox. We all went to the game for your birthday, and they lost, but I think you'd appreciate the humor in that. "Never give up faith!" I know you would have loved the huge production that we made for your birthday. Just imagine piling in Kam, Chan, Jame, Denis, Davis, Mom, Dad & me all in those tiny seats. You were probably laughing your head off at the sight of Denis squeezed in between me & Mom; ha ha. I got to know Denis in ways I never dreamed of. Ha ha...

I'm sure your first birthday in Heaven was your best yet. I love you,

Cath

Monday, August 20, 2007, is Mike's birthday---our first without him. A person's birthday is such a huge event in their lives; it celebrates their beginning, the arrival of a new spirit into this world, the moment of life's beginning for them. When they are placed in our arms, our happiness is almost indescribable---remember? "Hey world, this is my baby; isn't he/she absolutely the most beautiful baby you've ever seen? Isn't he/she the smartest, the happiest, the sweetest?" We all traveled this road when our child was born. We all reveled in the joy of it. We all were beside ourselves with pride and love and feeling so very blessed--life is wonderful. Each successive year, when we celebrate the birthday of our sweet child, we are even more amazed. How tall they are getting. How beautiful their eyes are. How cute they are. The things they say are embedded in our minds--they are so smart, so cute, so wonderful. Surely no other child is as smart, cute, or wonderful. Even though we celebrate the milestones-- their first haircut, that first day of school, the first time they ride their bike, we are a little saddened at the same time, because we know their childhood is racing by, and we want to make it last as long as possible. We want them to grow, yes, but at the same time, we want them to stay small, and cute, and wonderful. But as each birthday is celebrated, we see new things--another inch or three added on; another facet of their personality is coming through; another year of learning is increasing their awareness of the world around them. And we celebrate all of this. We are happy; we sing "Happy Birthday" to them and hug them, and love them, and everyone gets together to show them how much we love them and how much we celebrate their very being. This is how it should be. Loving and growing and being.

But when this sweet, precious, wonderful life we have brought into this world is ended early, what do we do when their birthday arrives? I don't know. I haven't been there yet, but it is closing in on me, fast. And what's left of my heart is imploding and my mind is exploding--with all of the memories, with all of the "Happy Birthday to You" songs that we've sung, and will sing no more; at least not with Mike sitting beside us, making us all laugh with some wry remark, jokingly—but with a touch of seriousness—looking around to make sure everyone there brought him something; after all, it’s his birthday, isn’t it? And no matter our age; we are ALL "children" when it comes to our birthdays, aren't we?

When a parent experiences the loss of their child by an early death, we know that life will never be the same for any of us. No more “normal.” Some day we will reach a "new normal” in our lives, or so I’m told by those who have been on this sad journey a lot longer than I have. A "new normal" that is not what any of us ever dreamed that we would live. And none of us want to be there. We go on, because we have other children and family to love and tend to and to be loved by and tended to. For this we are eternally grateful. But, each day is a new experience. Some are unbearably sad, some just "are," and some, every now and then, are threaded through with a memory here and there that brings a smile to our minds, a warmth to our heart, however slight, however swift, without the tears following, without the wrenching pain that memories sometimes bring. For these days I am so very thankful—how could we get to the next day if we didn't have these types of days now and then to bring us forward in our lives?

This Monday, I pray will be one of these days. I know we will remember Mike with memories of love and happy birthdays; we will remember how he loved birthdays; how he must have invented the "this is my birthday weekend" if his birthday fell on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday; we will remember his quirky sense of humor, his devotion to his kids, his love of movies and music, his love of being with family and friends, his love of and passionate loyalty to the Red Sox, his passion for his tattoos, and most importantly, his passion for just "being”; just having the opportunity to be alive, to find happiness in whatever life was handing him at the time. And we will remember how, when he knew that his life was going to end soon, HE comforted US, he told us that we were not to be sad about his dying, that we were not to sit around and cry that he was gone. He told us to celebrate our lives, to "Weep Not for the Memory," to LIVE. So, how can I sit here on his birthday and cry, and yet, how can I not?

This person, who showed us all what life is REALLY about, who said "I tend to be the kind of person who doesn't let much affect him; I roll with it and just take what I can out of it that's positive--there's always something--and learn from the negative..." and who, just a couple of months after learning that he had only months left to live, said, "I don't know why everyone is making such a fuss about my dying...everyone dies, I'm just doing it sooner than most. And I'm not afraid to die. I know where I'm going," will forever be alive in our hearts and our memories. But the absence of him from our physical lives brings pain that cannot be written about--there are no words sufficient to describe it, and though this too will be with us on Monday, we will still try to spend as much of the day as we can with sweet memories of all of those 31 years—the good and the bad—that we do have.

I haven't found much that's positive about this much too early end to Mike's life...I can't think of anything this early in our journey without him on this earth that could ever make me think that. And I think that Mike would understand that, at least for now; I just can't. Mike's leaving us early has turned our lives around, and though we try so hard to move ahead with our lives as he so very lovingly and courageously asked us to do, so far we can only take one day at a time, and try to make it to the next one.

We are, as Mike requested, going to Fenway Park on Sunday for his birthday, bringing his boys, as he asked me to, just weeks after his second brain surgery. Right in the middle of Fenway Park, in the middle of a game, he turned to me and said, "Mom, after I'm dead, I want you to keep coming to the games, to keep up this tradition that you and I have started; bring my boys, keep sharing it with them." As my heart plummeted to the ground at his frankness and simple yet profound request, he saw the look in my eyes and the tears spilling over my cheeks; he took my hand, put his arm around my shoulders, and said, "Okay, mom, I understand; but, please, at least promise me that you will be here for my birthday, with my boys—and I will be here, too." So, we will be there: myself, his dad, his sister Cathi, his two older boys (and the little one, starting next year), his nephews Davis and Jamie, and his best friend, Denis. (Sarah will not be able to be there; she has told us that she just cannot do it yet, and we understand; we know that Mike understands, and we will have her in our hearts, and she will have us in hers.) The rest of us will all be there, wearing on our baseball caps a big button with Mike's picture on it, his smile jumping off of it to the world around us, with the words "Happy Birthday Mike" in a circle around his sweet face, and when we all stand up to sing "Sweet Caroline" in the middle of the 8th inning with some 36,000 other people, we will all know that Mike is "reaching out, touching you, touching me," and we will likely cry, and we will try to laugh, and we will remember....

All of us, in all of our Red Sox splendor, joining in wishing you happy birthday...

We are all gathered at Fenway, just as you asked, Mike, and we had a good time. We knew you were with us, because just as Cathi came to her seat, Weezer's "Island in the Sun" came over the loudspeakers, and you and Cathi could share your little "hip, hip" greeting that is part of the chorus of that song, as you know.

Your happy birthday greeting from Fenway...special ordered just for you!

Your cake and candle....Happy 32nd, Mike!

Mike's boys at his 32nd b'day...08 20 07...

Hi dad! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Sorry I didn't get this to you last month, there was just no time. As you know, we got to Fenway (sadly, they lost) like you wanted. Well, just wanted you to know that I miss you and I really wished you were there for your birthday, but just realize you COULD see it from WAY up! I LOVE you sooooooo much !!! Well, goodbye...see you next time.

sincerely, Chandler

Happy Birthday Dad!! On your birthday we went to Fenway. I hope you're happy (where you are, and that we went). At the third inning, they brought us birthday bags; they had lots of stuff [in them].

I love you dad. (Hearts, hearts, hearts, hearts.) Kameron

PS: We also went to the Chinese food place you like!!!

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME (The Mamas and Papas)

Yes, stars shining bright above you Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you" Birds singin' in the sycamore trees Dream a little dream of me, yes

Say nighty-night and kiss me Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me While I'm alone and blue as can be Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear Still craving your kiss I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear Just saying this, yes

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me

Yes, stars fading but I linger on dear Still craving your kiss I'm longing to linger till dawn dear Just saying this, yes

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me Yes, dream a little dream of me