I woke up this morning wanting to pick up the phone to call to wish her, “Happy Birthday, Mom!“
She would have been 79 years old today.
It still is hard to believe my mother is gone from this physical world. It’s been nearly two years. I wonder if it ever becomes believable.
Though not “close” by what others’ definitions might be, my Mom and I had a unique relationship.
In some ways, we were as different as night and day.
But in other ways…
There was a time when I would have never admitted that we shared anything in common.
Nowadays, I often tell my friends, “You’ve just met my mother, Marian!” as I laugh (or cringe) while recognizing her voice and words coming out of my mouth.
And there are times I see her facial expressions in photographs of me or staring back at me in the mirror while I get ready for work.
I am so thankful that in the last several years of her life she and I
had took more time and chances to talk and learn a little bit more about the other.
As I sit here thinking about how
different much alike we actually were, I realize she probably would not have wanted to admit that any more than I would. I wonder if she even recognized it.
The biggest difference I see is…
I want to tell the stories of just how much alike we are; she would keep those stories to herself.
And for today…I will honor that request.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
P.S. I love you and I miss you.