Mothers and Babies and Stuff

My Mom would have been 67 years old today.

Not particularly old, not particularly young. Just 67.

We would have gone to dinner and bought presents and had cake. And laughed and laughed.

She would have been 67.

I was practically a kid when she died. Way too young to lose a mother and best friend. I'm still too young - but that's just a broken heart talking I guess.

The deep, bleeding, seeping hole in my soul has healed a bit since then. The physical pain is diminished. I don't wander around wondering why the world continues to spin and assholes honk and flip the finger to anyone they feel some imagined slight from. I don't cry every time I see someone from afar that resembles her (not every time any more).

Now, I simply miss her. Still. Every single day. That part never goes away.

I have learned to live with the pain. Something chronic and incurable. It's always there, I can always feel that empty place where she used to be, but I have learned to just accept that pain and keep going.

She wanted me to. I know that because we talked about it before she died. We talked about a lot of things in those last days and months. We knew it was coming. We could hear it just outside of our sight. And so we talked. About everything and nothing. And we laughed. And we hugged. And we cried (but not too much then, as we had much more important things to do).

This year, on her birthday, we visited another November 1st baby. It was her first birthday and she is full of life and love and happiness. She's an awesome baby girl. Her name is Violet and she is a ray of sunshine. Amazing how life goes on even when - at times - we think it shouldn't or couldn't or wouldn't. This small child can give so much just by being in the same room with you. Just being there and smiling or laughing (which she does a lot!). Something new for me on November 1 of any year since 1996.
I think that Mom would have adored V. She's a little pistol. No shrinking violet, our Violet.

A new reason to smile again on that first day of November...who'da thought? Life moves on, and we do too. And sometimes, our baggage is lightened by the littlest ones.

i