November 12th is Mom’s birthday. I often find myself in the odd place of wanting to make sure the world knows of this day, when someone larger than life was born. But the rest of me wants to hide in my bed alone to try to forget how I’ll never write her a card that I drew, surprise her with a gift that she never expected or share a Bailey’s coffee to toast the day. It’s the epitome of bittersweet.
I often think of the many birthdays we did have with her. The way Jesse would cook her breakfast (he grew up watching Jeremy & I making her Birthday breakfast as a baby). The way the little kids would argue who got to take her coffee up to the bedroom (it was an unspoken rule that the Birthday Mom not get up till she wanted to) and sing her happy birthday and asking as they did every year ‘how old are you??? Wow that’s old!’ Sometimes she would have breakfast in bed, other times it would be in the kitchen or in the library with a fire going. She would almost always insist upon spending time with ALL of her kids, even if they were too young to understand the desert was not about them… It’s in those little ways that I often think of how different she was from most other mother’s I’ve known. Even the times when Dad was home from work, she rarely wanted to go out with just him for her birthday, it was with everyone and home cooked meal (that one of us kids put together). Even in the busier years of rental houses, school stuff and sport stuff for the kids, we always managed to make her smile even she was upset with one of the younger kids or a selfish teenage moment.
Every year I hope that the words will be easier. The memories are little less heart wrenching and that the silence that sets in will lift. This year wasn’t any different. My birthday I never bring up and don’t like to share it with people (I did let Reuben take me to dinner though), basically I hate it and feel like I shouldn’t have any recognition. Mom’s birthday though, on said is very hard for me, I think people should know.
This year was even a bit harder because this was the first time since her death that I didn’t call my Grandmother to try and cheer her up (I don’t know that it’s possible on your dead daughter’s birthday..but there you have it). I still haven’t really wrapped my mind around that Grammy Gail is also gone along with the others (Mom & Uncle Rick)- compounded with my having Rosie (Mom’s dog that I gave to Grammy Gail).
Every birthday, everyday and every moment is a gift with you loved ones. Don’t watch them pass by for anything.