Thirteen years ago today my mom celebrated her last birthday on earth.
She turned 55.
Back to the Day
January 14, 2006: I take her and some of her friends to a tea room for her birthday. A lovely and quaint little establishment, the tea room waits for us about an hour away in a town I rarely go to. I thought it would be so fun for her to get away from her every day surroundings, to see somewhat of a different world. And it IS fun. The shops distract and the food entices, a few minutes break from the reality of mom’s failing mind and body.
Of course we don’t know that she has only two more months to live. But we do know that cancer thrives in her liver, pancreas, lungs, spine and brain. We know that her prognosis is grim. And that the delightful luncheon food upsets her sensitive stomach so much that she loses its contents in the tea room bathroom.
Mom sleeps off and on during the car ride home. It is tempting for me to think this little outing takes more out of her than it brings her joy. But we all know in our hearts that this birthday would be her last. Anything we would have done for her would make her tired. And an upset stomach isn’t anything unusual for her. Either she experiences fatigue and a little nausea at home in her usual four walls, or she she gets out and enjoys a little something special for her birthday.
On the upside, she enjoyed good conversation with her friends. She walked around the tea room shops a bit and admired the fun goods. When eating the food, she told us how much she liked it. And she still got a nap on the ride home.
Speed Limit 55
On the weekend of her birthday, my dad hosts an open house in her honor. He orders a huge cake that says “Speed limit 55” to give her a smile. Anyone and everyone he can think of is invited, and the turnout is great. Everyone does a fine job of keeping things light and positive, giving her hugs and well wishes. The elephant in the room trumpets the fact that she fails fast, that she won’t live to see another birthday. But everyone manages to mute the elephant for a few hours, not only for her sake, but for the sake of all those in attendance. This day celebrates her life, no matter how fragile it might be. Mom lives to be 55 years old, a blessing not everyone experiences.
Smiles All Around
So as I think back to January 14, 2006, it does bring tears to my eyes as one might expect. But it also brings a smile. I spent time with my mom and treated her like the special lady she was. I saw her eyes sparkle and heard her laugh. Even though our hearts hurt, our faces smiled and our minds celebrated what is, what thrived that day. What a wonderful birthday indeed.
“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” Dr. Suess
More blogs like this one:
Firsts And Lasts- A Loved One Lost
What to Say When Time Is Ticking? A Loved One Lost
Mothering Without Mom- A Loved One Lost
