My mother would be 109

Today (US time) is my mother’s 109th birthday. I always remember it, and this year is no different. Several years ago, I began publishing my post for her birthday when it was her birthday in the timezone she was born in. Ah, timezones again! I’ve mentioned that I often miss the birthdays of US-based Facebook friends because I get the alert in MY timezone, which is really weird. However, when I have the choice, as I do with these posts, I want to acknowledge birthdays on the person’s actual day. This was especially important to me for my mother because she never set foot in New Zealand, and observing her birthday in my current timezone felt off. Perhaps that sounds weird, maybe even utterly bizarre, but it’s where I’m at.

Back in 2018, I talked about why these posts matter to me:

I’ve told so many stories about my mother over the years, and repeated some of them, that finding something new to say is now very difficult. But that’s not really the point of these posts or why I make them. Instead, it’s about the remembering itself.

Part of that is about ensuring I remember her birthday even now, because when she was alive it could get lost in the midst of all the holidays. But the cool reality is that she’s been gone so long now—the better part of four decades—that I can go days, weeks, or even longer (months?) without thinking about her or remembering her except for, maybe, a moment. By making a point of remembering her birthday, I’m assured I’ll think about her not just on the day, but in the weeks leading up to it. I like the comfort of that.

This year marks 45 years that my mother’s been gone, and 46 years for my dad. That’s a very long time. I’m unlikely to make it to 45 years without Nigel—I’d be 105 years old—but I wonder if I do make that far, or even, say, 35 years, will it be similar to my parents? Will I still have long stretches when I don’t think about him, and others where the thoughts and memories are constant? Or will he continue to be a constant presence, so to speak, in my life, as he’s been since he died, and in a way my parents really haven’t been, or will that fade over time? Part of me is fascinated to find out, because I love learning about and observing real life, but some of me that isn’t even remotely detached.

I feel Nigel’s presence in my life every day, much as I used to when he was, say, at work and I was at home, something that’s apparently at least somewhat common among widows/widowers. It’s been comforting, especially when I’ve had the inevitable rough times, but that makes me worried that if it does “go away”, I’ll feel totally alone. If it does happen, I imagine it’ll be a long, slow process of forgetting—not the memories, but feeling his presence. And this is something I now think of every year when my parents’ birthdays come round, when I think about them more intensely than I normally do.

The important thing is that even now, 45 years after she died, and after having spent more than two-thirds of my entire life without her, I still think of her and remember her, especially on her birthday—on either (well, both…) of the two technically “correct” dates). As I said last year, “thinking about my mother two days in a row isn’t exactly a bad thing.” Indeed. And I can’t imagine it’ll ever change.

Happy Birthday, Mom, and thanks. Always.

Previous birthday posts:
My mother would be 108 (2024)
My mother would be 107 (2023)
My mother would be 106 (2022)
My mother would be 105 (2021)
Remembering my mother’s birthday in 2020 (2020)
Remembering my mother’s birthday in a new life (2019)
Still remembering my mother’s birthday (2018)
Remembering my mother’s birthday (2017)
My mom would be 100 (2016)
Mom at 99 (2015)
Remembering my mother (2014)
Mom’s birthday (2013)
Mom’s treasure (2012)
Remembering birthdays (2011)
That time of year (2009)
Memories and words (2008)

Related:
Tears of a clown – A 2009 post that’s still one of my favourites about my mother.