Today, my mother was born. She would have been 56 this year. 56. The first birthday she didn’t live to see.

And, a year ago today, on my mother’s last birthday, my Grandfather [her father] passed away.

The Ides of March will forever require a warning from now on.

…

I wish I could say more, but maybe that is all there really is to say.

That and I miss them, both, terribly.