My mother’s birthday was this week. She died in 1991. I was 11 and that’s a long, long time ago. Strangest thing though — every year, I think about her birthday in August. I consider it, reflect upon it, wait for it. And every year, it passes me by. Every. Year. I. Forget.
I know, goat. That was a downer. Stop judging me.
I mean, I’m not bogged down with guilt over this. It’s just weeeeeeird. When I say I forget, I mean really forget. Not a thought about her, until a phone call or email from a thoughtful family member who did remember. Same thing for her death day. I always want to cite it as November 31, but I damn well know November has just 30 days.
Some sort of subconscious self preservation? Possibly. In any case, I thought about her this morning. It’s an odd thing, to miss someone so hard that you don’t really much remember.
Best Blog Yet.
“The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven’s lieutenants.” – Shakespeare
I would expect your mom is smiling at this, knowing her voice is still speaking through her daughter.
Don’t worry I think the goat has your back
I like the quotation. Lotta responsibility, eh? And thanks.
Loves you
Ditto on that.
My sweet Sara,
As far as forgetting dates that should be important, revel in the fact that we all do it. I’m incredibly guilty of forgetting my Nama’s birthday (she passed 8 years ago this August) and I never ever remember my parent’s anniversary in June and they just had their 38th…
And my strongest most wonderful memories of you are 11 – 12 year old Sara. C’mon – you were there for my first kiss at the skating rink…and you proceeded to tell my parents about it. I know your Mom is so very proud of the awesome woman you have become. I know I am.
Ah, we were awkward little boogers. And why (why?!) are first kisses always at the skating rink? Thanks for the sweet words, Sarah. <3
I think remembering your mother is good. Remembering dates on top of that is hard. I barely remember MY birthday.
Thanks for making me feel old talking about being 11 in 1991. I was a Sr in High School.
Ah, that’s not awful. My husband was 29.
Whoa. I just realized that when I was 11, he was the age I AM NOW. I’ve weirded myself out even more. How is that possible today?
I love you. J
I love you too.
Sara, it’s always weird. I seem to always forget my mother’s birthday–Aug. 31st. Think about it ahead of time, but forget when the day comes. Then Janice 2 weeks later. Our birthdays were close so this time of year we always talked a lot. Usually about cake. I know she’s proud of you. I know she’d love Jed and Cole. I love you all. AD
I stopped by to visit her last time I was at Sharon. It’s been a while back, but it is funny you mention this because I remember noticing that her birthday was very near my dad’s – which I can never remember. (I think it is tomorrow.) I also remember losing my grandfather soon after Janice passed. 11 was a rough age for us.
Be encouraged not by when we remember our lost loved ones, but by how we remember them.
11 seems to be a rotten age for many, many people. It’s just the degree of rotten. Thanks for visiting. I plan to do that the next time I come to town. Let’s plan a reunion. I’m cereal.