Happy Birthday, Karla... I truly hope your 43rd birthday is a happy one.

I wonder, can you look back on your birth day and think of me with a clear conscience? Can you think back and know the joy you brought to me and how you changed my life for the better? And if you can, what do you feel? Is there something missing from your life? Is there the slightest temptation to say "thanks, Mom"? I doubt it.

I can think back and recall almost every detail of my labor, your birth and how I didn't recognize you as mine when I walked down to the nursery to see you. I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I remember seeing the most beautiful newborn I have ever seen in my life and stopping to admire that child... and then to find out it was YOU. That beautiful child was MINE.

I remember the wonderful feeling and almost an aura that our three room apartment took on with your presence. Your grandmother thought it was best for me to let you lie in your basinette but every time she left, I would rush to pick you up and hold you, to rock you, to sing to you, to count your beautifully formed toes and fingers, to kiss each and every one, to have my one and only treasure in my arms.

Today, I'm remembering each of your birthdays; the first, where you buried your little face in your birthday cake, your sixth, when we celebrated your birthday and your brother's birthday at the same time, your sixteenth surprise birthday party and blasting "It's Your Birthday" by the Beattles as you came through the front door... a houseful of girls and only Erik there to respresent the male population.

I remember Joyce taking the cake knife and whacking the beautiful cake I had made for you right down the middle as if the knife was an ax... because neither you nor I could bring ourselves to cut it.

...and I remember the wedding cake I made for your wedding.

I remember all the precious times you and I had together and I still mourn. I mourn the loss of the incredible bond we shared, I mourn the loss of you and I mourn the loss of what could still be... but you won't allow it. So be it.

I still love you with all my heart and I would still "die for you"... which in fact is what I've done. I am dead to you, my only daughter, my first-born...

Rest in peace...