Susan Isabella Sheehan

SANTA CLARA, United States

I am a self-taught and universally inspired artist. My writings, art, and photography reflect life and love, even the disappointments and...

My Mother's Birthday

Today is my Mother’s birthday. She would have been eighty-one years old. I wonder what she would have looked like, and how she would have felt about all the changes that have occurred in our world in the last thirty-six years.

My children never had the opportunity to meet their Grandmother, my grandchildren their Great-Grandmother. None of them were to be blessed by her delightful laugh, nor were they to feel the strong presence of this wonderful and Magickal woman. All of us were robbed of her charm and beauty.

On July 21st, 1972, my Mother was needlessly murdered in Phoenix, Arizona. It was called a random act of violence, kind of like a drive by shooting, just a gun that went off and a bullet that happened to fly through her kitchen window, penetrating her body and exploding deep inside her chest. She bled to death on the doorstep of her house, with no one to hold her hand and comfort her as she passed.

The perpetrator was never captured. The detective who handled the case worked in frustration for many years, trying to solve a cold case that to this day is not resolved. I spoke with him not too long ago. He is retired now, but remembers the murder as if it occurred yesterday. He regrets that he could not bring justice to my Mother, and peace to the family that she was torn away from.

Today is my Mother’s birthday. I celebrate for her, she who cannot celebrate. I remember her, the beautiful one who wiped my tears as a child, who comforted and consoled me when I was sad or injured.

I remember the Mother who made me laugh, who took me on long road trips throughout Arizona, and to California, where her heart certainly belonged.

I celebrate for the one who taught me to be who I am.

Happy Birthday Mama!!

April 14th, 1927 – July 21st, 1972

Posted 04/14/2008

A short edit here. Yesterday, the second rose of the season blossomed, from the same plant that my own birthday rose had come from. I was not able to cut it until today, and believe me, there were thorns aplenty.

Here is my Mother’s very own birthday rose, bloomed just for her on her special day.

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