“Shhhh! Here they are!”

She walks through the door and sees us. I can almost see the wheels spinning  as she tries to wrap her head around why the faces of her friends and family are here…grinning at her.

“Surprise!” The camera flashes. She blinks as though returning from a journey to the past.

“Oh, it’s a party…for me!” Yep, I think it has sunk in now. She hugs me tightly whispering in my ear, “Oh, honey. Thank you so much.” I take such delight watching her face as she makes her way around the room hugging and laughing with those healthy enough to make the trip. She is truly joyful and her heart is as full as mine today. My sister and I finally pulled it off. A fitting tribute to our mother who just turned 80 years old but looks, acts, and appears so much younger.

A shadow of disappointment begins to block the joy but I quickly brush it away before it can permeate the party. But before it recedes, I see in my mind’s eye the ecstatic look and tears of pure happiness on my mother’s face at seeing him here with us. Well, he’s not here and it was his choice and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Being the middle child, the peacemaker, the healer, the emotional caretaker, the one who pulls everyone together takes a tremendous toll… when I’m unsuccessful. I feel like I’ve failed. I feel the disappointment. I feel the blame and the let down. I stomp my foot to banish those thoughts and turn to hug my step-father. “Good job! We did it! Thank you so much for the thieving, support, and keeping the secret!” I catch my daughter’s eye as she watches her grandmother, Mommo. She winks at me and smiles restoring my heart to its previous fullness and my humor.

I see people I haven’t since since I was a child. People tell me that they immediately recognize my sister. She is an older version of that beautiful child with the big violet blue eyes they knew. But I’m a different story. They don’t recognize me. For the first time I don’t hear it. I don’t hear, “Your sister is so beautiful and you’re not.”

This time I know I have beauty. If not on my face then in my heart. I have beauty in my soul. I have beauty in my words, in my intentions, in my love and appreciation for others, nature, and in the way I see the world. The greatest beauty I have is in my ability to forgive others for the pain I have suffered due to their actions.

At this moment I realize that mom didn’t mean to hurt me by not coming to my wedding. She was suffering a pain of her own. I forgive my brother for not coming to this surprise party and robbing mom of (most likely) this last chance to have all three of her children together for her birthday. I forgive my maternal grandmother for treating me different than my siblings and not gifting me with something precious. And I forgive myself for allowing myself to be hurt deeply by the actions of others and carrying that pain for so many years.

Oh, and I forgive my mother’s cousin for not relinquishing the portrait of her father…With the help of another cousin, a copy was delivered in time for the party. My mother now has a large portrait of her father and I get to see what my maternal grandfather looks like. I see where my brother gets his dimples…I’m not sure where he gets his anger.