A time to mourn, and a time to dance

Today is Tracy's birthday. She would've been 42.

I've been in a funk all week. Realistically, I think it has to do with overly high expectations and tensions at work, training for the Tour de Pink, and lots of other things . . .

And then sweet Jamie posted her blog update today about it being Tracy's birthday . . .

I keep Tracy's remembrance card from the funeral in my car and I look at it almost every day. I wonder if by some strange act I happened to catch that this week . . . this day . . . was Tracy's birthday. I wonder if subconsciously that fact settled into my thoughts and moods and has driven me into a funk . . .

A poor excuse because in all actuality, I should not mourn the fact that Tracy is not here. That is selfish for me. She is without pain, without cancer, with her hair, her beautiful strong body, and her spirit is free to do what ever the hell she wants to do . .

But most importantly, in my mind's eye, I see Tracy doing the chicken dance. Because that is what she wanted to do most at her son Jason's wedding some day.

She will not get the chance to do that in her mortal form . . .but many of us will . . . on many other occasions with her on our minds and with smiles in our hearts.

We miss you Tracy . . . and now we dance!!