To really understand where I am coming from, you must see where I have been. This is my Facebook post from Trevor’s birthday in 2013.
I remember the night you were born. The maternity department at Kishwaukee Hospital was completely full. We arrived in time to take the last labor/delivery suite. A few new moms after us were put into a completely different department, due to lack of space. The nurses told us that all of the end of September babies were being born as a result of a snow storm at the turn of the new year. Just like with your sisters, the moment I held you, I was in love. You were a good baby and very rarely cried. I smile thinking about how you twisted your hair when you were thinking about something. That started when you were only a few months old, but with my hair. When I would rock you, or even hold you if you were sleepy, you would twist my hair with that tiny little finger. On more than one occasion, Daddy would have to untangle your little hand from my hair so I could lay you down. Even as a toddler, as we read books, you would listen so intently, all the while twisting my hair. Eventually, it led to you twisting your own.
Before your third birthday, you could recite The Lord’s Prayer, numerous nursery rhymes, and you would strum your little plastic guitar and sing songs. You made such terrific expressions when you sang. Your little dark eyebrows would raise and you would close your eyes with such emotion. Dad and I knew then that you were going to be a music lover like me. I remember when you started kindergarten. Dad and I were your den leaders for Boy Scouts (Tigers) when you were in first grade. Mrs. Ebens still tells people the story of you reading Harry Potter in her first grade class. We all knew you were special. I knew you were brilliant. Through early grade school, your reading level climbed so quickly. I missed reading to my little boy, but clearly you were showing me that you could do it, as well as I could. By junior high, your humor had developed and we shared so many jokes that no one else got. I did. I got you. You had my desire to learn as much as you could. You didn’t need anyone to help you.
I remember when you walked into your eighth grade graduation with your cap and gown I suddenly realized you were a young man. We bought your laptop and music software for graduation and you turned the basement into a recording studio.
Hearing you play the drums, guitar, keyboard, and sing are some of my favorite memories. You had fantastic musical ability. You were funny. You were kind. No one can ever replace the feeling I got every time you would come up and hug me and say “Love you, Momma”. You weren’t ever embarrassed to show your love for your family in front of anyone. Your sisters adore you. Even though you were the middle child, you were a “big” brother to them both. We miss you more all the time. I know you are looking down on us. I know that it is no accident that on the eve of your birthday this year, The Big Bang Theory season premiere was aired and the premiere of Glee was the first of two Beatles episodes. Much like the kid that gave your dad, sisters, and I a boat tour and announced that his “name is Adam, but you can call me Trevor”. I know you send us little signs to know that you are here. There are so many of them. I hope that never changes.
I am proud to be your mom. You are a light in my life that even death cannot dim. Someday I will be able to get that hug and hear “Love you, Momma” again. Until then, I will carry everything I learned from you (and continue to learn from you) with me through the rest of my life on earth. You are loved. You are missed. You are a good son. You took a part of my heart with you when you left, but I have plenty left for your dad and sisters. Happy 17th birthday, Trevor! You are my son, in my heart, part of my being…forever. I love you, Trevor Jeffery Allen Cox, my Scooby, “Sheldon”, terrific brother, lovable son, awesome friend, comedian, walking encyclopedia, and music man.
danacox31 
Leave a Reply