Today is my birthday.
Today is the first time that my birthday won't be "sung" by my mom.
My brother and sister told me the first one was hard and I imagine that it will be--it's early yet.
Though last year was harder. I went out to see mom who couldn't get out of bed. She floated in and out of consciousness. She floated in and out of lucidity, but I took her the cake that I had made and she ate it--like she always ate cake. Frosting first, then cake. She didn't like to waste the calories if the cake wasn't as good as the frosting. It was so hard--and I offered to help her eat, but she didn't want to.
The thing is mom was diagnosed in October and we lost her in April. My sister and brother were born in June and August respectively. On their last birthday with her they had no idea, no inkling, that it would be the last one. My birthday, I knew. I had no doubts that this birthday would be without her.
I don't know if the foreknowledge was good or bad. It was hell seeing her that way. It is hard knowing I won't hear her on the phone mangling the happy birthday song. I miss her. But I'm not seeing her in such pain and so altered. I can remember the other birthdays with her and smile. I miss her though. So much.