When you lose a parent to illness, you have to endure a lot of things. You have to endure the certain knowledge that your mom (or dad; but I’m going to use just mom for the rest of the post) is dying, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You have to endure the knowledge that they are in pain and suffering and afraid, and there’s nothing you can do about it. If it’s a longer illness, there’s also the likelihood that you’ll have to endure the knowledge that you really want this to be over with, even though you know it means that your mom will have to die in order for that to happen.
And when that does happen, you have to endure the agonizing grief.
And then, after a few days or weeks or months, the fog lifts a little and you realize you are going about daily life, and you’re thinking about that person a little less. And you’re crying a little less. And that cold fist that had hold of your heart has loosened just a smidge. And as time passes, you begin to see that you can carry on, and not only can you carry on, but maybe (just maybe) you can even get through a day without crying. And maybe you can smile again, or laugh again. And maybe you can even find joy in life again.
But what you don’t prepare for is all the firsts. In the 365 days following the death of a parent, you will have to face a whole lot of firsts. The first Christmas without mom (wow, that was really, really hard). The first Mother’s Day. And the first birthday. March 5th would have been my mom’s 68th birthday, and I know I found it tough. I didn’t cry, but I did dwell a lot on what could have been (the angry part of me still insists it’s what should have been).
My mom and my youngest daughter (aged 7 weeks).
And today is my birthday. It’s the first May 18th in my entire life (41 years strong!) that I haven’t received a phone call or voicemail with her smiling voice on the other end singing “Happy Birthday”, with my Dad in the background. It’s not a surprise. I knew this day was going to come (yes, I have mastered the art of calendar-reading). I just didn’t know how bittersweet it would be. Of all the firsts, I think this is the most emotional for me so far. It’s my first birthday without the woman who gave birth to me, and that is — even though I saw it coming — somehow still a shocking realization.
But my family and friends have come through for me, in spades.
Instead of my mom singing “Happy Birthday” on voicemail, I got a call from my sister and her family in England. My sister’s voice (so like my mom’s) singing strong, and in the background my brother-in-law and wonderful little interjections from my 15 month-old niece. I cried: tears of happiness and gratitude.
Instead of a card in the mail, I got amazing Smilebox creations from my sisters. And Jen’s had the most amazing sentiment:
Sisters are friends who play with us and stay with us the rest of our lives.
Which is so, so poignantly true.
And my Dad: of course my Dad remembered to call me, which means so much. He’s been a great support to my sisters and I, and he’s an example we all strive to live up to.
And then all my peeps on facebook who’ve been bombarding me with messages, wall posts and more…it’s such a thrill to hear that little beep on my iPhone and then see that someone else was thinking of me and wishing me well.
So to everyone who was there for me – thanks for helping me get through this first.
Kath – Thank you for your post. My father died the same day you shared this. I dread the journey of grieving ahead of me and my family. I know i’ll be relying heavily on my friends to help me through.
Happy Birthday Kath! My thoughts and prayers are with you as you go through this. I hope that you find comfort in knowing that your mom is at peace and in the memories that you have of her.
Kath – first off, what an incredible picture and one you’re so lucky to have! My sister has one just like it with my mom and her son, and I selfishly gaze at it time and time again, wishing I could have one like it with my guy, but she didn’t live long enough to meet him.
That first year is awful and I promise that it gets so much easier without the firsts. I will admit though that your birthday will always be tough. And it’s odd, but last year I turned 40 so the hoopla sort of masked it but this year was the first year as a mother myself and I found the day brutal. So different than before when I din’t know what being a mother was like. I’m so happy that you’re basking in the glow of love and friendship from everyone…they’re all family too! big bday hug!
Happy Birthday again. And I agree, so far my own birthday was the toughest first without her. After all, she was there when it all started! xo
The “firsts” don’t end at 365 days, unfortunately. My mom died when I was 18, so there was my graduation, my marriage, the birth of my children. And now all of their milestones (this weekend was prom) that she’s missed–and I’ve missed sharing with her.
But it does get easier with time. I’m glad that your family and friends were there for you today. Happy birthday!!
Kat I find my own birthday the hardest to handle, even harder than Mother’s Day. And the hardest of my birthday’s was the one right before my mother died. She had traveled to the GTA to visit me from her home in New England for American Thanksgiving. My Birthday was in January, and she new we might not see each other again till after my birthday. This was not uncommon, so she brought my gift with her.
She did this every year. She wrapped it beautifully, and I got to admire it till my birthday the first week in January. But this time every time I looked at it I knew… this was her last birthday gift to me. I knew I would never get another, that this was the last pretty package from her I would get to open in honor of our special day.
Instead of opening it first thing in the morning I waited… all day… It was a statue of a little girl reading that had reminded her of me. I love it. I will always cherish it.
About a month later she died.
So, thinking of you today… glad you liked you Kat cake! :o)
Aw Kath – big {{hugs}} and Happy Birthday!
I lost my best friend last July 5th after a seven month fight against leukemia. Somedays it’s just as hard as it was last summer.
Lately my mind has been going back to “This time last year…” and I hate that. I wish I cold stop it. Another friend told me it’s how we remember our loved ones. To me it’s a painful reminder of what we all went through.
Re-integrating into a life without her has been most difficult.
Glad you were able to smile through your tears today and could feel the circle of love surrounding you.
(Love that photo – just precious)