My mom would have celebrated her 74th birthday this week. Since she died, the day, with all its knotted-up feelings, has been tricky for me. Those feelings have loosened since those first few years, but I still never quite know what to do with August 4th.
It’s different than February 16th, the day she died. On that day, I think about the loss, about how much I miss her and about all of the things I wish I could tell or ask her.
But on her birthday, I think about what we’d do if she were still here, how we’d celebrate, and imagine singing to her around a cake lit with candles.
On February 16th, I think about the past ten years without her. More grief than life.
But on August 4th, I think about the thirty-nine years I had with her. More life than grief.
It’s an interesting ritual, bringing balloons or flowers to someone who isn’t there. My mom isn’t there. It’s only her ashes and her name on a plaque.
And yet, I brought a balloon and flowers for her birthday.
But after standing there and staring at them for a few moments, I realized they really weren’t for her.
They were for me, to remind myself that the day still matters in the way it always mattered. Imagining her alive and well and surrounded by people who love her matters.
Grief often allows the loss to eclipse the life.
But birthdays remind us of the life.
I remember my son Cal’s words shortly after she passed.
“How old was Mimi when she died?”
“Sixty-three,” I said.
“SIXTY-THREE!” he shouted. “SIXTY-THREE birthdays? That’s SO COOL. I’ve only had six!”
Cal was right. Sixty-three birthdays are so cool.
So maybe that’s why we bring balloons on birthdays to someone who isn’t there.
To count the life, not the loss.
Imagining her on her 74th birthday helps me keep up the count.
She’s not there. But to me, she is.
And even bittersweet days are still sweet.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
Like this object-based story telling? My memoir, Piece by Piece: A Life Remembered through Things Lost, is available here. 📖💙
This is beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes. I love what Cal said, too. From the mouths of babes!
Such a beautiful perspective Kim. I am sorry for your loss, but how fortunate you are to have had such a great relationship and beautiful moments with your mom.