When you’re a child who is too young to know any better, you want to believe your parents will be around forever.

But once you grow up, you begin to understand that no one lives forever, not you, not your mom and dad, not anyone. Once you learn that, you pray that God will push out their last days for as long as possible because the thought of being without them is absolutely unbearable.

One of the things I had the hardest time coming to terms with after my dad passed away in June 2022 was that my dad was gone. My dad. For years, I'd see the occasional announcement on Facebook from friends and co-workers about how they'd just lost a parent, and I'd say a prayer for them while (selfishly) thanking God for still allowing me to have mine around.

Then all of a sudden, I was the one making such an announcement.

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Once we paid our final respects to my dad, Priority One for me was concentrating on mom's health, because we both knew something had been wrong healthwise for a while with her, but she had been focused for so long on caring for dad that she decided to delay some doctor appointments

Because it was strongly advised that summer that she get a colonoscopy, we scheduled one for the soonest appointment we could get, which was mid-October of 2022. So when her 79th birthday rolled around, which was about a month ahead of the appointment, we had on our minds that hopefully we'd find out that whatever was wrong was manageable by medicine, diet, or perhaps a simple medical procedure.

It was, as long-time readers of this series know, not something simple at all. It was Stage IIIB colon cancer, which ultimately required two surgeries and three months of chemotherapy.

One of my first thoughts after finding out the news and looking into her terrified eyes as I tried to remain calm in the midst of the storm was, "Will Mom even get to see another birthday?"

When I said my prayers that night before I went to bed, I asked God to please not take my mom just yet. I wanted the opportunity to help her live out her golden years happy, content, loved, cared for, and cherished. She had devoted so much of her near-80 years selflessly helping and loving us and others that I felt she had earned more time on earth to be on the receiving end of such things.

It's been nearly three years since her diagnosis, and this month, Mom turned 82. Though we have a birthday party planned later in the month, I got a surprise gift for her along with a Christian-themed card so she'd have some birthday cheer on the actual day of her birthday.

That morning, though I still had sleep in my eyes, I rolled out of bed, grabbed the gift bag and card, and went into her room to discover that she herself was just waking up.

I began to sing Happy Birthday to her, and between hearing that and seeing the brightly colored gift bag, she got the biggest grin on her face. I don't even remember what she said in that moment, because all I could focus on was how her face lit up between her smile and her eyes.

Long gone was the frightened look from the colonoscopy appointment three years ago, and in its place was pure joy. Reflecting back on it, I'm not sure who was happier that morning - her or me.

The Bible verse on the birthday card, which is from Psalm 118:24, reads "This is the day that the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." And that's exactly what we did.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

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