The name my mother gave me

It’s my birthday. I’m thirty-five. Thirty-five years ago, my mom brought me into this world. This will be my first one without her.

I go pay her a visit.

Something’s new; her headstone is there.

My brother and I have actually been waiting for the headstone for some time, to the point where we thought about calling the local cemetery and being all “Can I speak to your manager?” about it.

But now that it’s actually there, I kind of wish that it wasn’t; it’s just one more symbol that my mom’s passing from this world is real.