Today marks the twenty-third year without my father. It also marks my mom’s 59th birthday. Yeah, Pops had really lousy timing and died on my mom’s 36th birthday. Since her birthday has been a bit tarnished since 1980, we’ve not really celebrated it since the day my dad died.

My mom has also been nattering on about how she is “not long for this world.” She says that because her mom died at 59, as did her father. My mother has diabetes, lupus, endured 2 open heart surgeries and let’s just say, I got my round body genetically. She takes more damned pills daily than the entire population of the crack house next door to me. So, she’s not in good health and I take her seriously when she starts in with the equivalent of Fred Sanford’s, “It’s the big one, Elizabeth!”

I’ve known since I was 7 years old that life is fleeting and while I would normally roll my eyes back into my grey matter when people spout platitudes like, “Life is short. Live for today!” I tend to agree. To that end, and with the full knowledge that my mother has made it more than possible for me to be an exchange student in France, to spend a semester of college in London, to have new windows in my ghetto abode so we don’t freeze to death in the winter and to have the giant wedding of my dreams a month ago, Stephen and I decided to make one of my mom’s lifelong dreams come true.

At dinner, I handed my mom her present and a letter. She looked at the present, an Alaskan guide book ,and tried valiantly to appear thrilled. I told her it would come in handy with her real present, which was in the envelope. She opened the envelope to find a letter with a picture of a woman in a hugely furry parka with a note saying, “This, dear Mama, is going to be you next summer!”

My mom and step-monster, along with Stephen and I, will enjoy a seven night cruise to Alaska next summer aboard the Radiance of the Seas. My mom yelled, “Oh my GOD!” and started crying much to the chagrin of most of the other diners at the Red Lobster after she realized what Stephen and I had bought her. Then she said, "Oooh, do you think we'll meet someone like Chris in the Morning?" Not only did I get my chubbiness from my mom, I got my love of quirky television shows honestly.

I told her she’s got something to look forward to and to live for, and I'd do my best to find her Chris in the Morning. I’m no dummy, nor apparently, do I have any pride. I’m not above bribing that woman to stay alive.