December 1

Last year I brought you Moose Munch and a green fleece jacket for your birthday before I left for California, where on your actual birthday as it happened I stood in the parking lot of a winery and cried and screamed into the phone at Mom because all of a sudden you were being transferred to a nursing home from the hospital where the assisted living had sent you the day after I left. 

You didn't know what Moose Munch was anymore but could still comprehend "original milk chocolate" and, more vaguely, your birthday.

A month plus a day later, just over the threshold into the new year, you died.It's crazy, really. One month we're talking popcorn and chocolate, and the next we're not talking about anything at all, because we can't.

Seriously? So weird.

It still sucks, the missing you part. I can see back now, to the photos and the videos I've got and the images in my head. I can comprehend how frail you were, how hard it had become to navigate the world, how there were gaps in comprehension and engagement that weren't there the birthday before, the one where a bunch of us went to lunch and you dove face first into your sundae when they didn't bring you a spoon. 

I know in large part that grief is selfish, but that's not anyone's fault, how it's felt, how it moves.

If we didn't love people so much it would have no origin or purpose. It's the constant push-pull, the crap reality of death.

I wish I believed in a situation that would even allow me to allude to things that people of faith allude to, like "birthdays in heaven," but I don't, and it's not even that on this count I'm that cynical or bitter. It's just that I don't really operate in that sphere. It's not something that feels genuine to me. Still, I honor the birthdays you were here and the 89 years total its been since you came to be a person.

Your birthday kicks off the holiday season for real, like it always has. It's Advent, right, the practice of waiting for someone new, for something new too, maybe, I don't know. I love it more than Christmas, really. It's one of the Catholic things I hold onto for some reason. There is nothing not beautiful about it, to my mind. It's so separate, to me, from theology - because it's the practice I love, not the reasons why, really. 

As part of its beginning and of your day itself, I drove towards water. I thought of you, but not the whole time, as much as I knew what day it was all day. I remembered just as much as I thought you'd want me too, if I could guess, and I ate a full fat dinner.

I love you more than I can explain to anyone but myself. I miss you so much it's sickening and for that reason these are things I will always do. I will try to write about it and to talk about it when it makes sense because I think it should be said, how much people can affect our lives for the good, so much that we can carry them with us for as long as we live.

These things about you are things I will always remember, as long as I can remember things.

Comments

[kdiddy]

*hugs* to you and birthday wishes for your grandma.

[Kellee]

What a really beautiful post.

This is my very first time reading your blog.

I read your interview with Jodifur the other day, and decided that I might just be in love with you and had to come and see for myself.

I know that in death, I always kind of wish I "operated in that sphere" as well. It seems like such a nice way to think about our loved ones that are no longer with us. But I agree with you, it does not feel genuine for me.

As you said, we can carry people with us. We are our legacy, and their place in our heart is the manner in which they carry on in the world.

[AnnQ]

What an absolutely beautiful, touching post (and the sundae picture is simply lovely and adorable).

[deb taylor]

a beautiful tribute to a beautiful woman!

[Genie]

This is beautiful.

[DebraQ]

Beautiful tribute. It doesn't matter that I don't know who the woman is, how or if you are related just that you love and miss her. Think I'll call my mom and tell her I love her.