My Mom's Birthday

Today Mom turns 82 years old. If she walked this Earth, I imagine

To tease her with a cake too small to hold 82 candles-

If I listen I can surely hear Mom laugh.

My dad would be quite the feisty 86 years young, and

I see them, side by side on the river bank-

Perhaps with my 94 year old uncle I visited the other day--

Fishin' and talkin about the 'old days'.

My 'old days' with my mom lasted just 13 years.

It's funny how my memories aren't as vivid as they once were-

Time has passed so.

I want to remember more.

I want to just be the daughter to make a mother proud...

Happy Birthday, Mama--

Thank you for giving me this life--

I love and so very much miss you.

July 9, 1928 was Monday

And the day my mom was born. Eighty-one years ago. If Mom had lived I try to picture her at this age. Would she still be as fiesty as I remember? Still savor her gin? Let her hair go naturally gray? That part I kinda doubt. Would she still love me as much?

I know this part to be true. I wonder if Mom would be as proud We didn't have time to get into 'chats' about what I ought to do as a grown up. Mom died of complications from weight loss surgery in 1971. Yellow liver atrophy got her on a Friday and by Monday Mom was gone. So I always think of how it could be. I do remember my interest in taking French in high school, while Mom thought I should type and such--it was the 70's.

When Mom was second of five kids, plus second daughter I wonder what her parents thought? I can imagine Mom being a fussy baby--needed stuff done that second. Her family was poor--and I'm not sure of how much love was shown. Mom's mom passed when I was a year old. While by the time Mom died, she and her father were estranged. I later asked my own Dad if my grandfather attended his second daughter's funeral. Dad said he did. I still wonder.

With the deaths of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and now Michael Jackson, maybe Mom wasn't suppose to get old. Maybe she always knew. Mom told me how she wanted to be buried when I was about 11 years old. Mom died at age 43 when I was 13. I've since crossed that 43 plateau and gone onto territory Mom never had a chance to get to. That's why I wonder what she would think? Honestly, I picture Mom's stare and then squint while asked--using my FULL name-"Just what are you doing?"

Nonetheless, on this day I do smile to think Mom and Dad sit on some cloud. A cloud with a pond so they could fish. Hey, it's Heaven--so everything is possible! And in this picture where Mom gets our food ready on one of many weekend fishing jaunts. Now back on that cloud, Mom and Dad watch over me as they cast out their line. I hope they smile. They loved to fish together. And they loved me--together.

So just what am I doing?

Stay tuned.