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Happy Birthday Mom!

I use social media for various reasons and in much of the normal ways. The one thing I try not to do is to memorialize those who have passed, with cliched lines like "15th Year In Heaven." Death is a fact of life, and while I am in no position to tell someone how to hold onto their memories and show their gratitude, I do think many trivialize the loss of others by making it more about themselves, likes, and comments. For me, a simple photo without words is the best way I can do it. The irony for me is, my mother would most likely have been the most transparent Facebook user ever, with her entire life out in the open, and an Instagram account that would have looked like a 3-star Michelin restaurant. Then again, she may have shocked me, as she often did. I wish I had the chance to know.

Yesterday was her birthday. She's have been 77. Sounds old, but when I think about the fact that she passed 15 years ago, it reminds me of how young she was, and how young she was when cancer first struck and then when she was given her death sentence, which she fought off for four years, outliving her expiration date by over forty months. It was that time I realized who she was and what strength, perseverance, and dignity were. I'll never possess what she had. It's not in my makeup. I simply don't have the will she had. Not even close. I can view myself as compassionate, empathetic, even altruistic, but she hung on for my brother's graduation. To go into the whole story, there may have been some selfish reasons, but what she endured to make it to a specific moment, is something not many could withstand. I know I couldn't. There will always be an asterisk next to this story, as she never actually made it to the ceremony. Too weak from the battle, that would take her two months later. Her pride in seeing her youngest do what her oldest never cared about, is something I was happy to see first hand. She was always proud of us, but that moment was the culmination of all the hours she worked with him and for him. That was the thing many don't know. She made me promise to always look over him and she'd be shocked at how that worked out, him taking care and looking over me when I needed it most. My thanks and my love for him, he'll never understand. She knew.

Last night, after a few cocktails out, I returned home and fell asleep. I awoke, made some food, another drink, and made a toast to her. I thought about the night's I'd come home unexpectedly early and I'd sit next to her. She'd be watching something silly and would usually turn it off. Despite my age, still living at home, I was always her baby. She'd comfort me, asking me "What's wrong?" even when nothing appeared to be. She knew me. She knew when I was happy, sad, and everything in between. Nobody has or ever will know me like that. That is my defense. My mother and I could talk for hours and we did so often. Holiday evenings, or more so those that surrounded them, were often spent reflecting on our lives. She always wanted more, but not for herself. She wanted it for everyone else and her selflessness was a burden. She always reminded me of my potential, but in the context of who I was. As a child, I was the next great lawyer or psychologist. As I grew older, she saw my nurturing qualities, which I have to assume I learned from her. Looking back, the interesting thing is how tough she was on me, in comparison to my brother. Then again, looking back, she wasn't tough enough. I know I've not been hard enough on myself and she'd be rather upset at where I am now, although, if alive, she'd have never let it get to this.

Last night, while I lay in bed, I thought about the night's spent talking and how, when she passed, her biggest regret was that I was not married and she was not going to ever know the joys of being a grandmother. Something she probably resented her mother-in-law for being able to enjoy. I thought about the joy my brother's kids would have brought her and show spoiled those children would be. My brother and I would have become invisible in their presence. She would have showered them with so much love, as she did us, but in a different way. In the way, she always wanted to with us but knew she had to make sure we became the people we could be and never settled. I think about that often, as I have not. My thoughts took me to Christmas Eve and Christmas Evening, and the fact I've been alone for the last three or is it four? She would never have allowed this, not even were it my wish. I made her a promise. Next year, whether it be Christmas Eve or Christmas, I will make sure to spend it in the company of those who I care about and who care about me. I'll keep that promise too because I don't want to hear her if I don't. .

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