Today is the day that I have taken more breaths than my mother.
This year I turned 56, the age my mother was when she died. Her birthday is 12 days after mine. Twelve days from now, my mother will have been dead for 19 years.
The numbers are kind of wonky. I was born when she was 18 but she turned 19 just 12 days after I was born.
Nineteen years difference between when I turned 56 and she died.
She died on August 24 at 1:45 a.m., so this morning when I woke up, I had already taken more breaths than she had, as she did not live out the entire day of August 24. She only lived less than two hours of it.
This has eaten at me since my birthday. It is a strange notion and I have fretted over it more so than I think healthy. I can be morose that way sometimes. I hope that is over now, now that I have outlived my mother.
This morning when I was realized that I didn't have to wait until tomorrow, that in reality I've already lived longer than my mother, even to this very moment, I felt relieved. I felt like I'd jumped through some magic hurdle that until then I didn't even know existed.
I also feel sad, because this was a very young age to die, really. I know it is beyond middle age and heading on into plain ol' "old," but 56 is not that old, really. Not when my grandmother lived to 87, and some of her family lived beyond 100. Heck, I haven't even reached the halfway point of the age Aunt Pearl was when she died at the age of 107.
My mother was scared to die, I know. She fought it hard. She didn't talk about her fears to me, though. I think she did with her sister. But not with me.
I was 37 years old when my mother passed away. She probably thought, and rightly so, that I couldn't relate. I couldn't, not really. Not at that age.
People in their 60s still have their parents with them today. I was not that fortunate with my mother. But she died young and still pretty, and even though it was cancer that took her, I suspect she would rather have died while she had her looks than to have grown old and haggard.
I wear "old and haggard" like a badge of honor. I earned the soft-white hair, the wrinkles around my eyes. They are external signs that I have lived.
Forgive me for the weird post. It's just been that kind of Monday.
Cheers to a new trip around the sun, CountryDew! Forgiveness need not be asked. You wrote another heartfelt post. I appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteThis resonates with me. I was trying to explain to my 19 year old nephew why, even though the Cubs are in first place, I don't expect to ever see them in another World Series. My dad (his grandfather) was a massive Cub fan who died at 56. So he was long gone by 2016 when the Cubs won it all. It just doesn't seem FAIR that I might see two Cub World Series when he never got to see one. My nephew, who never knew his grandfather, just looked at me like I was crazy.
ReplyDeleteI understand your “mood” more than most, especially right now. And NO FORGIVENESS is required. The hardest thing I think to do is live in the “now.” The past is usually sad even if scattered with terrific memories. Mainly because it and the people in the memories don’t exist anymore or have left you. The future is scary because we don’t know what’s in front of us. What will we have to face? Will we be alone? Is it going to be painful? Together they make holding on to “now” very hard. Some days, I am not sure I am gonna be able to do it....
ReplyDelete