Hey Mom. You're 90.

The last time we had a normal conversation was on the day of the marathon bombing. It was a short talk. I knew you were a watcher of CNN and did not want you to see that there had been a bomb and maybe worry that I had been a victim. You sounded tired, but as always, you were there with all your marbles.

The next to last time we spoke was on your birthday, a few days earlier, two years ago today.  We had a long chat then and you sounded so up, so happy, and I felt very fortunate to have you in my life. Then, on the day they captured the surviving marathon bomber, you had the stroke.

You're 90 today.  Happy birthday.  Been thinking about you.  I made a seder last weekend and you were all over the place.  Made the matzoh ball soup and you nodded approvingly. Set the table ahead of time and you were beaming. You were not so crazy about how I vacuumed and dusted the joint, but for the most part you were proud of how I got it together.  Robbi and Marcia came.  Went through the first half of the seder and then ate our meal.  Dad would have been disappointed that we did not do the second half, but we all sort of ran out of gas.  Marcia's grandchild was there and it was way past his bed time at around 10 when they had to go.  Robbi and Jonathon also got tired.  Maybe it was the wine.  I cleaned up about sixty percent that night. I know you would have made the place look like we had never had a piece of matzoh before sleep, but I had had it--so finished cleaning up on Sunday. I kept thinking about you during the seder.  Often brought a bit of a smile to my face.

Went to Sammy's kid's bar mitzvah last weekend.  Hillel's daughter will be married next weekend so the family will be together again soon.  Your great-grandson Jack is a joy and you have a great-granddaughter now, Sophie.  She will be one in a couple of months.  Crawling around the hotel room while big brother Jack jumps about.

You're lying right next to him but if my way of thinking is the way it is, you are unaware that Dad died a few months after you did.  His love of you was evident every single moment of his waking hours from the time you passed until he did.  Spoke of you all the time.  I remember the last words you were able to mutter when I saw you last.  "He's wonderful." you said.  I hope I am wrong about the afterlife.  At the unveiling Jacqui said that she could only imagine that you two were beneath the ground holding hands.

So, you are ninety.  The world is as the world was.  A lot of tsuris. Israel, of course, is still hated by its neighbors. Obama, of course, is still pilloried by his detractors--many of whom are about to bust just because they still cannot get through their racism.  Fox News and MSNBC are still, neither, news programs--though I know you thought MSNBC was.  Your former governor Jeb Bush is making noise about seeking the presidency.  Hilary Clinton is a likely Democratic opponent.  We had a devastating winter.  Cold with lots of snow.

Bobby and Matt are doing great.

A lot of people miss you.  We still have the house in Florida and whenever Bobby and I are there your neighbors, like always, will comment so positively about your character and Dad's.

Happy 90th birthday, Mom.  Love... alan