Mama, you are still looking out for your baby girl, aren't you? Thank you. Thank Saint Cecilia. Thank the six-pound eight-ounce Baby Jesus.
First I got Pearl Jam tickets while you were still here. Then you snagged that AH-MAZING Chris Cornell ticket for me. Fifth row, center stage? If I had not been on Cloud 9, I'd have wept ...... Mavericks? Done. Rick Springfield? Oh mama!!! Avett Brothers? Nice.
But Temple of the Dog, at Madison Square Garden in New York City?
You have outdone yourself, Mama. Oh sure, I had some help from your love, affectionately known as #BestDadEver. But to make it happen, a little divine intervention was needed. That is all on you.
I love you, Mama. We had strange ways of expressing it, and usually so poorly. But it was there. I'm certain of that whenever I think of you. I feel it as surely as I feel that lump in my throat.
Your birthday is coming up soon. That will be as tough a day as Mother's Day was. But I promise I will bring you a pretty arrangement that you will love. I'm thinking sunflowers .......