For the second year now my birthday has become the entry way into the anniversary of the last 2 weeks of my Mom's life. It's such an odd thing. Thursday will be two years ago since I hugged her for the last time.
I think about her all the time. 99% of it is good. I smile or laugh about whatever I am thinking. But these two weeks are tough. They were really the only bad memories I have about her. And when I don't think "bombarded" will be what I feel this year. Time softens pain. And really... 2 weeks of bad memories out of 39 years? Not too shabby. :) She wasn't a saint. But she was, and still is, my hero.
This was written last year:
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| Mom and me in Alaska 1999 |
This weekend it will be a year since I hugged my mom. I went home the weekend before my birthday. A friend of mine was taking me out to dinner in my hometown. Then I spent that Saturday night at my sister's house. I walked next door to mom and dad's that Sunday and hung out for a while. I had all my stuff packed up, and I hugged Dad. Then I hugged Mom. I remember how thin she was when I hugged her... thin even for her. I bent down and hugged her with care... yes, short as I am I had to bend over to hug mom. :) I was coming back home the following Friday night for my high school reunion so I'd see them in 5 days. I know at the time I was worried about Dad... thinking he was getting up there in years, and how every time I left may be the last time I saw him. Little did I know what that following Friday would bring. Mom riding in a helicopter to Pitt, me bringing home food for dad and I to eat while my sister was at Pitt with Mom, pulling up out back with Dad waiting nervously on the back porch, me talking to Mom on the phone, and saying something silly like "Look at you causing all this trouble!" and hearing her laugh at me. "I know!" she said. By Saturday night she was in open heart surgery. And in less than 2 weeks I would be holding her right hand as she took her last breath. And I felt her leave. It hit me in the gut, and I caught my breath. I remember that the nurse that night was quietly crying for the last 2 hours before mom died... she didn't know mom, but she was touched for some reason. Maybe it was hearing us kids talk about her with such affection. I don't know. I remember that Mom's hair was pushed off her forehead and her ears were showing. It bothered me so much. She hated for her ears to show. I also remember her cracking a smile when we were all laughing about when my big brother used to have to help her frost her hair complete with one of those plastic caps where you pull the hair through with a crochet hook so you look like you have doll hair. We were laughing so hard at it, and my sister points down, and Mom is smiling.
So I am trying to be excited about my birthday coming up next week. I love birthdays. They represent another year conquered. And this one is a biggie... 40. But this is also the first without Mom. No homemade birthday card. Last year's printed upside down or something so when it folded it was all out of whack... but she figured I wouldn't care. And I didn't. The cards were always awesome and poignant... printed with old pictures of us as kids. She loved playing around on her computer just like I do.
I am guessing that from this weekend through November 2nd I am going to be bombarded with odd anniversaries. Hospital, surgery, bypass, thinking she's gonna recover, she's not breathing on her own, etc... I often remember events in excrutiating detail. I can remember a trip to the Renaissance Faire 2 years ago with near perfect recollection. I remember the timing of showing up, what I was wearing, what shows I saw, what time I left, etc... and usually I like this ability. But it's occurred to me that this "talent," for lack of a better word, is going to be a bit of a curse on this occasion. I am doing my best to persevere... trying to find a balance between keeping all my stress and emotions under wraps so I can function and not completely ignoring what I feel. It's a fine line to toe.
This whole year has been a lot of firsts... every holiday has been the first without Mom. But hitting this first anniversary of her leaving... it feels the worst. I hope that the year of "seconds" that begins after November is a little easier.
