Today is my mom's 64th birthday. She hasn't been around to celebrate her birthday for the last 16 times. And, while there are many times I think of her during the year, today's the day I can guarantee thinking about her.
She really disliked her birthday. Didn't like getting older. Not one little bit. She was really chapped that I made her a grandmother. I mean, nothing says OLD like the title of GRANDMA! It truly wasn't my fault that she had me the month after she turned 18. I had planned on sending her black balloons for her 50th birthday. I did get them and put them at the cemetery on that special day.
We had an interesting relationship. I'd call it troubled, but neither of us had trouble with it. We got along splendidly as long as we lived in different states. When we crossed paths too closely, it got a bit, um, fiery. And we both had the red headed temper. In spades.
Because of that relationship we had I can honestly say that while there are times I miss her a lot, there are also times I'm very grateful that she's not around to drive me insane. She would lecture me on the amount of times I'd take the girls to fast food for dinner, then return them to me after watching them for a weekend with SIX new happy meal toys. Things like that.
I am very grateful that a few months before she died we had a very deep, very healing discussion. I explained to her how she drove me insane, she explained to me how I drove her insane and then we could discuss why we had done whatever it was we did and apologize for those things we truly felt sorry for.
Not that that healed us and made us best friends forever. A week before she died I had to slam the phone down on her while she was mid-tirade about my ex-husband. I mean, he was my EX husband. Obviously I knew he wasn't worth living.
But the night before she died she called me to report that she had bought a new power suit and it was "to die for!" I never got to see that power suit because she was wearing it when she died and the paramedics had cut it off her in their vain attempt to save her. So not only was it a suit to die for, it was a suit to die in.
My mother died from an aortic dissection caused by Marfan Syndrom. As far as I know, I don't have this genetic issue. A couple of my brothers have this but have chosen not to worry about it.
I am grateful to my mother for many things. And I'm taking this moment to wish her a very happy birthday!