Yesterday was my Shalebug’s sixth birthday. Which had me and the kids wondering, do they celebrate birthdays in heaven?

We decided that yes, they do, and we should too. So we bundled up and collected a few of our favorite nephews and headed to the movies.

Me and a group of monkeys kids, alone in a dark room with no adult supervision. It was a small miracle that no one was arrested, injured or found rocking in the corner with her arms wrapped around her body, muttering “What have I done???” over and over again.

If you ignore the fact that I spent more money on popcorn, Gobstoppers and soda than I did on groceries for my family, it was a pretty successful outing. One that I hope to repeat, say in a year, when time has blurred the images and my memory has receded.

But as I corralled my herd of six to ten year olds and tried to keep them from breaking bones or running into traffic on the way to the theatre, I wondered what my Bug was doing.

Was he dancing on healed and straightened feet?

Was he singing with the angels, finally able to find his voice that for so long had remained silent?

Was he laughing his ass off at the antics of his siblings and cousins while his mother tried to pretend she didn’t know those crazy children in the movie theatre?

Was he thinking of me, the way I was thinking of him?

Happy birthday my beautiful boy, my moonbeam, my Bug. For four years, ten months, 17 days and 21 hours you were the light that lit my soul and shone upon this family. And now we have the blessings of remembering that light, that love even if we couldn’t reach out and touch you and be slimed by your kisses.

You still light up this family. You just do it in a different, slime free way.

We haven’t forgotten. I hope you haven’t either.