The Last Birthday

She died for me. My baby. The most extraordinary girl in the world. She put her life before mine. All those days I told my precious girl she wouldn’t care if mommy died. Those days I asked her what she would do if mommy had to go. She said she’d die. I thought she was just saying it to drive me away. She wasn’t. 1

She never lived to see double digits. Her birthday had just nearly passed when she slipped out of my weak grasp. January. January. A month I’ll never forget. A month I’ll always regret. As usual, she came knocking gently on the mahogany door after coming off the bus from school. I remember her terrified face as I waltzed down the steps, unalarmed. Her eyes were wide and watery. She was attempting to hold in any sound, as I came closer and closer. But then she gave up. She gave up the little life that would have twirled into a strong woman that would make a difference to the world. She gave up being famous and remembered when she would die as an old woman. She gave up her name in a history textbook. 2

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” She screamed out, tears sputtering, breath firing out hastily. She gasped over every vowel, “NO! DON’T OPEN!”3

Bam. Silence. And then, she was gone.4

Some one held her from behind, hiding under the door’s window where I couldn’t have seen him. He warned her not to talk, or he’d shoot. My little 9 year old, faced by a gun. Had she known she would die if she had yelled those words? Did she consider the consequences? Was she scared of living without me in the future? 5

When I built up the courage, I peeked out the door. I cautiously opened it more, falling to my little girl’s level. I studied her, dumbfounded. It couldn’t have happened. It’s all a joke… please… this isn’t real. But it was. My breath was lost somewhere in the chilling air. My eyes shifted to the deep red drops on the thin snow. Suddenly, I brought her up to my chest and cried out. The words I screamed were no where near articulate. They only sounded like wheezy squeaks uttering out the ends of consonants. No matter how much I shook her she lie dormant and emotionless. My life had rapidly killed the grains of hope inside my soul. If only a kiss could mend this wound.6

A year now. It’s her birthday. What that man wanted… I’ll never know. We have not found him yet. The pain left with him should be enough punishment. 7

She died for me. And now she can only come back in my dreams. The nightmare of my recollection returns when I sleep. WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! I shriek over and over to my baby in the dream. WAKE UP! The words remind me that her actions caused my eyes to open again. I wake up and sob, alone, without her to hold and comfort myself in. If only I would have driven her home that day! If only she was sick and had to stay home from school! If only she hadn’t spoke and he took me instead! She had a life to live. I had lived mine. What else could I have done to save her? I hope you can hear me from wherever you are: Happy birthday. I can’t take living without you anymore. Every day is a torture. I want to be with you, for your 10th birthday today. I will be.