This is Bobby's first birthday in eternity.  Makes me wonder: are there birthdays in heaven, and if so, do they mark the day you arrived on earth or in heaven?

Bobby would have been 68 today.  He was taken too young, although he had 21 years more than my mother and 63 more than our eldest brother Johnny, who was killed by a drunk driver in 1947.  

When I turned 5 I wondered: would Johnny be 5 forever?  My father Amalio said yes and no, which wasn't easy to understand.  My mother Matilde said Johnny would always be 5 and that he was my Guardian Angel, another tough concept for a kid to grasp.  In my day, children had very little power, so I didn't see how Johnny could protect me from anything.  Mommy insisted everything was different in heaven, where the purity and innocence of children was especially prized. 

I was happy we were valued somewhere.  As the youngest of five, and only girl (constantly reminded they drown baby girls in China), I continually fought for status, a custom kept for half a century which allowed me modest academic and professional success.  I remember studying the big cotton clouds of our Sacramento blue sky, hoping to see my angel brother Johnny watching over me. But the only place I ever saw him was in the large, oval framed photograph which guarded our Motorola television in the living room. That same photo and frame, now 70 years-old, now graces the second story landing of our Folsom home.