Since I’ve been writing birthday blogs for my children, it feels right to write one for Mom too—even though she’s gone.
In June, she will have been gone four years. Some days it feels like twenty. Other days, she hasn’t left the room.
The last birthday party I threw for her was one month before she died. It was a good one—friends, cupcakes and ice cream, banners, and a crown.
She was no longer verbal by then, but she spent most of the day sitting up instead of being strapped into her hospital bed. And at one point, she pushed herself up from her wheelchair to stand—as if to say, I’ll show you what I can do.
Her birthday is also Cinco de Mayo, so we often celebrated with tacos, guacamole, salsa, chips, and margaritas.
This year, I texted her grandchildren and suggested we honor Mama Nick by all going to Taco Bell—her favorite fast-food joint—and ordering something cheesy and crunchy in her honor. They’re all in. I’m expecting selfies showing off their orders.
In the meantime, here’s mine. And my thanks.
Thanks, Mom
Thanks for the backbone you gave this family.
Sometimes I picture the spine as a stack of cookies—ginger snaps, chocolate chips, snickerdoodles, oatmeal—layered strength, sweet and steady.
Thanks for modeling bravery when facing dangerous beasts.
For showing strength even when the body and mind were failing.
And love—big love.
You set the bar high high.
Love, even when there is difference.
Even when there is hard history, love.
Even when we don’t agree, love.
Love, even when wounds don’t quite heal.
Because of you we will be stronger, even when our knees and minds falter.
We will be braver, even as we face our own beasts.
I hope we ordered all your favorite things today.
I’m blowing the salt off my chips in your memory, sending you my breath like a kiss.
I love you.
We love you.
Pennie and your five favorite people
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026
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