April 27, 2009

• Saturday would have been my mom’s 61st birthday.

  At first, I wasn’t going to put a number to the birthday; she wouldn’t have wanted me to if she were still alive. When I first started putting together this post in my head (what – don’t y’all do the same thing?), I was thinking of putting down something like “50-mumblesomethingth” birthday. Then I realized I wasn’t actually sure what the number would be, so I did the math. For some reason, it didn’t occur to me last year when she would have hit one of the birthdays that end in a zero.

  I can’t imagine my mom being 61. Not that it’s that old or anything, but I just can’t imagine it. I mean, I know she was getting older the entire time I was growing up, but it just never seemed like it. To me, she was always just Mom, somehow eternally ageless. Older than me, sure, but without a specific number applying. Probably helps that even up to the end, even after rounds of chemo and radiation and the ravages of cancer, she still looked good; she could easily have passed for at least five years younger, if not more. And it’s not just me thinking that – I’ve heard the same from others who didn’t look at her through a daughter’s eyes.

  I wish I didn’t have to try and imagine my mom being 61. I wish she were here, so I could see for myself that my mom would still be ageless in my eyes. I’ll have to settle for her being ageless in my memories.

  • 10:40 am
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