Happy Conception Day to Me!

Forty four years ago, I was conceived. How do I know this? Well, I really don’t know this for certain, however, my parents married on April 30, 1966. I was born January 30, 1967. Nine months, to the day. My mother also “claimed” that she was a good, Catholic girl and didn’t do the nasty until she said “I do”. I really don’t know if I believe her on that one, however, the dates don’t lie.


I’ve joked about this for years. One year, I was on a cruise for my Conception Day. Anyone who has ever been on a cruise knows at dinner they sing to just about everyone. They sing Happy Birthday, Happy Honeymoon, Happy Anniversary. Well, imagine the room going silent when they hear the waiters start to sing “Happy Conception Day” to me. My friends arranged it. The look of confusion on faces was priceless. Everyone was all, what are they saying? Are they really saying what I think they are saying?

I share this day with some special friends. Some great ladies in my life were born today. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we share this day together. The most special lady that shared this day with me was Nick’s Mom. I always told her “You may have been born today, but “I” was conceived today!” and we would have a good chuckle and eat cake.

This is the third year that we are not celebrating this day together. It dismays me that three years have passed and she still does not have a headstone. I have no control over that and it kills me. There’s no excuse for it.

I’ve made her a beautiful arrangement of pink, silk tulips that I plan to put on her grave today. I’ve made her an arrangement every year since she’s been gone. If she doesn’t have a headstone, at least the beautiful flowers will mark the spot where a beautiful woman rests.