Dear Mom - Happy Birthday?

Dear Mom,

So it's your birthday, and of course you are more on my mind than usual. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about your last birthday. For one thing, at the time I was kind of annoyed with you because you were so clearly in terrible pain, but you refused to go to the hospital because you 'didn't want to spoil the holidays'. As if the fact that you were in such pain and exhaustion that you couldn't even go to Anne's on Christmas Day wasn't kind of putting a damper on things? Certainly for you, at any rate, since you ended up with me, Michael and Mozart on the CD player. But now I realize that you knew you were dying and you wanted whatever you could get in the way of being around your family for one last round of Birthday/Christmas stuff.

Sometimes I'm a slow learner.

Something else I remember - you were so sick and had no appetite, but asked me to make a white lasagna and chocolate cream cheese pie anyway. And I gave you a decent portion of lasagna - not by Nanna standards, but still... - and a modest wedge of pie. And you ate it all! That made me really happy. Not just because I'm vaguely narcissitic, but that you could take just enough pleasure in food to enjoy it...

Things are going pretty well here. I never got into the whole crazy estrangement Carolyn and I went through over the last few months - you'd have told me you didn't care, except that I was upset - but we're pretty close to fine, now, but each with her own brand of mild wariness. I'm about to call Aunt Mitzi, since I imagine today is rough for her. She really misses you.

I'm a total child when it comes to Christmas, but the excitement with which I dive into it these days feels different than when I was an actual child. The presents are lovely but I get so energized just by the spirit of the season. I don't care if you're Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim or a tree-worshipping Druid (are there other kinds of Druids?) - there's something about this time of year that's special. I had to run a few errands this morning and actually enjoyed it. Part of the pleasure was walkking around the stores singing along with the Christmas music and smiling at everyone, even striking up a few conversations. I met a young man at AJ's, clearly sufferibg from something like Down's Syndrome, who gave me a cheerful hello, and when I returned it, told me his name, his age, and offered me his hand, which I took, while giving him my own name. As his father ushered him along I heard him say, "I was making a friend!" Yes, Robbie, you were.

I forgot to tell you about Thanksgiving, which we spent with Ruthie and Bill - you'd have loved them, Mom, they're very real and warm people, but no BS allowed. Anyway, I kept insisting that I was going to bring something, and finally Ruthie said I should bring something from our own family's traditions - I consulted with Anne and she suggested a chocolate roll. This was perfect, as it really represented both sides of the family - your mother invented it and you kept it alive, and Dad loved it. So did Ruthie's guests! Mine aren't proper works of art but I think they pass taste tests.

I'm going to sign off now. Will try to keep up more regularly.

Love, always
Barbara