Today I am 31 years young.
I normally love getting texts, calls, and facebook messages wishing me a happy birthday. But today they have all felt like kicks in the stomach.
My day has not been wonderful, fantastic, or fabulous.
You see, we found out early this morning that Jarrod’s Nanmaw had just passed away. So a happy birthday, it is not.
We will still do cake this evening for the sake of the kids. And they still gave me homemade cards and magnadoodle messages along with a santa hat, pencil, doll hairbrush, and other randomness that they stuck in a gift bag, but other than that, there isn’t a lot of celebrating to be done.
We are happy that Nanmaw suffered very little and that she is now reunited with Jarrod’s Papaw who passed away when Jarrod was little.
Nanmaw loved her family something fierce. She was constantly bragging on her kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. She would always write stories and/or send newspaper clippings with my birthday cards – all of them about Jarrod or his Papaw (who was also in the Navy). Nanmaw’s whole living room was plastered with pictures. I think she had every single picture that family members had ever given her taped up to her door and walls.
She will be missed by many, but her legacy will live on through her four daughters, nine granddaughters and one grandson (yep, Jarrod’s the only guy!), and sixteen great-grandkids.
So please, instead of birthday wishes for me, I ask that you send prayers and good thoughts to Jarrod’s family.
And to those of you who have already sent birthday messages - thanks. They are hard to swallow today, and I get choked up every time I get one, but I do feel very loved.