I've been scheduling posts here to publish Mondays at 12:35 pm because my Mom died on a Monday at 12:35 pm.
This Monday is my first birthday since she died. I was born at 2:17 pm.
I thought about the "appropriateness" of writing a post today, but that seemed like avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Right behind that thought, was "I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for her." I am so grateful for this wonderful life she gave me. I am her creation. I am her legacy. She lives through me.
I remember all the lasts I shared with her: the last time I held her hand, the last time we gazed into each other's eyes, the last time I said "I love you," the last time I said "goodbye." I think of all the firsts she must have been so delighted about . . . my first tooth, word, step, boyfriend.
My firsts. Her lasts. We shared them all together.
And so it is my first birthday without her . . . though I'd not shared one with her by phone or in person for a couple of years due to the Alzheimer's. I remember missing getting that call from her every year at 2:17 pm to mark the moment of my birth and her wonderful cards (we always sent each other several).
Because I saved them, this year I have birthday cards from Mom.
It is indeed a wonderful life. Thanks, Mom.
