Happy Birthday, Mom

My Mom Sunny was born on April 13, 1920...or was she? We always celebrated her birthday on the 13th, but years later, when Wifey and I took her to a doctor's appointment, her Medicare card showed a different date -- I think it was April 12. When I asked Mom she said "Well, I always consider it April 13." Mom was never one for details.

We celebrated her last birthday on April 13, 2013 -- 5 years ago today. She was mostly out of it mentally -- we gathered at Miami Jewish, and over cake she raised her cup and toasted "Happy Anniversary." Still, she was happy and pain free for the next week, and then began a precipitous decline -- losing consciousness and needing morphine -- and dying 2 weeks later, on April 27.

It sure doesn't seem like 5 years have passed, and yet much has happened.  D1 started her own practice, and married Joey, our beloved son in law. D2 got her Master's at UF and moved to NYC with hopefully another future son in law, Jonathan.

Sadly, Sunny's death would mark the effective end of any extended family relationships. Of my three nephews and one niece, we only have contact with one nephew and his lovely wife.  One sister and I no longer speak, and if I had to bet, would wager we won't again, and the other sister and I speak once or twice a month on a completely non intimate basis.  Sometimes the death of a matriarch brings a family closer -- Sunny's passing had the opposite effect. As Tony S said, yeah, but what are ya gonna do?

The Ds and Wifey realized it was Grandma Sunny's birthday -- we shared text messages this am.  Wifey and I will travel to Matheson Hammock, where we placed her ashes, and tell loving stories about an awesome woman.

My suegra, now 93 herself, always brings up her fellow mother in law, and recalls what a fine woman she was -- "never butting in to anyone's business."  Wifey and I always laugh at the irony that Rachel is exactly the opposite.  But it was so true of Sunny -- she only wanted to know her kids and grandkids and great grandkids were happy and doing well -- she asked virtually nothing of them.

During her final 11 months in a nursing home, she'd ask me about her oldest grandson.  For reasons between him and his Maker, if he believes in a Maker, he never once visited her. At first, I'd make up white lies about his absence, and then realized it wasn't my place to do so, and would just shrug my shoulders.  Sunny wouldn't complain, or whine -- she'd just say "Well I'm SO happy his business and duties as a father keep him so busy!"

Sunny represented the brighter side of human nature -- sunny, like her name.  As I age and have less patience for the foibles of others, I try to summon her spirit -- they know not what they do. 

And, when she was finally fed up with someone, she'd call them a piece of shit. Wifey has adopted that, too -- we always laugh when she says it, recalling Sunny...

So happy birthday, Mom.  I don't really believe in an afterlife, but I hope I'm wrong.  I like to think you found Dad somewhere in eternity, and the two of you are dancing as he croons a 40s song. You're both young -- you a true beauty, and Dad a dark and handsome man.  And he pulls you close, and says "Happy birthday, Sweetheart."  That'd be nice.