Today's my birthday, which ordinarily doesn't mean much to me, but this year I've been dreading it. No, I don't mean the usual "I'm getting old" thing. Today I'm sad because of my memories of my last birthday, which was really sad.

On my last birthday, I'd been home less than a week after a rough month in Florida, most of it unplanned. My mother was dying from cancer. She'd just been brought home by the hospice folks. Though she was still fighting with a risky chemo treatment, her prognosis was very bleak.

Ever since I moved out of my childhood home, my mom had a ritual of calling me at 6:02pm, my birth minute, to sing me Happy Birthday on the phone. Each year I'd wait till then to talk to her, making sure I was near a phone to make sure I'd get her call. Last year, I called her house on the morning of my birthday to find out how she was doing. My cousin asked, "Do you want to talk to your mom?" I hestitated, knowing the ritual, but said yes anyway.

My mom got on the phone and wished me happy birthday. Her voice sounded weak. She said she was planning to call me later when she had more strength to sing. I said it was okay and I sang Happy Birthday to myself instead. We talked a bit about my plans for the day, then she said she'd call me later. She was tired. We said our I love you's and hung up.

That was the last time I talked to my mom. By 6:02pm, she had slipped into a coma. She died two days later.

Anyway, like I said, today's a sad day.