It always seemed fitting my mother and brother Tim shared the same birthday: Today, March 22. I can't explain the bond they shared. It wasn't blatant, just a quiet understanding between them. While my sister and I spend most of our childhoods vying for own voices in the family, Timmie seemed to have his just by being. He and my mom were alike in so many ways, both possessing independent natures that profoundly directed the courses of their lives. Their longing spirits led both of them to live outside of their own homelands: Mom from Germany to the States to marry my dad; and Timmie from the States to Germany to join the Air Force - as if he had a calling to explore the part of himself that came from her. He got to know mom's German family, became fluent in her language, and walked the same streets as she walked as a young girl. How proud she must have been!
I can't imagine losing one of my babies, and it makes sense to none of us that my mother lost hers. And while years have passed and much of her pain has been replaced by really great things, I know the birthday bond is still there. My prayer for my mother is that the sadness is replaced by happy memories of the boy - and man - she raised. He was the best person I ever knew, and I know my mom would multiply that statement by a million. Happy birthday to both of them!
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