I choose to celebrate.

Today I choose to celebrate, even though you’re no longer here, I choose to celebrate you, your laugh, your love, your cheer. Today you would have been 73, and even though you’re not here, I put on my green this morning — because Lord knows you’d pinch me; that was my yearly fear. So that’s the reason I celebrate you, the reason I smile through the ache, the reason I honor your memory with every step I take.

I choose to celebrate the stories, the moments we got to share, and the way you filled a room with joy simply by just being there. I celebrate the lessons, the strength you left behind, the way your love still guides me when life feels unkind.

I celebrate the jokes you told, the stubbornness you wore with pride, and the way you always had my back, standing firmly by my side. I celebrate the holidays, the traditions you made feel right, and how you’d fuss if someone dared to take your seat at night.

Today, I celebrate your legacy, the love that doesn’t fade, the way your presence lingers gently in every choice I’ve made. I celebrate the memories — the ones that make me laugh and cry, the ones that remind me love lives on; it never dies.

So happy heavenly birthday — I hope you’re dancing in the sky, I hope you’re watching over me with that twinkle in your eye. And as I wear this green in honor of you, I whisper soft and true: today, tomorrow, always… I choose to celebrate you.