Today, my mother would have turned 89 years old. I was buying a birthday card for my best friend a couple weeks ago and it hit me, just like it did at Christmas, that I’d never buy my mother another birthday card again. This simple revelation triggered a big emotional reaction. It took all the self-control I could muster to not cause a scene in the card aisle.

Aside from next month being the one-year anniversary of her passing, her birthday signals the last “first” marker of an event or occasion without her. I wrote about the concept of the last “first” in this blog post from January. I haven’t written about her or what I’ve experienced coping with her passing the last few months. This is partially because I didn’t want this blog to turn into some kind of grieving chronicle of woe. Frankly, I don’t know what I want this blog to be right now.

The other reason why I haven’t been blogging about Mom is that for the most part, I’ve been doing okay. I get through most days just fine. I play with Johnny, my tuxedo cat, pay bills, try to clean and clear out more clutter, smile, get together with a friend, laugh. I’ve even managed to think and talk about Mom without crying. That is, until the last week or so. I’ve found myself very emotional and missing her presence a lot. Having been through this process before when my Dad died, I know that grief is cyclical, rather than linear. Even knowing that intellectually doesn’t make it feel any less like a setback.

However, I’ve decided that what may seem like a setback is really a reset.  It’s a reminder to look at where I was, where I am, and where I want to be going forward. In grief and in life, we often don’t give ourselves credit for how far we’ve come. All we think about is how far we have left to go. But dwelling in either the past or the future too much is dwelling in an illusion. Right now, in this moment, is where life happens. By accepting where I am right now, I’m accepting whatever feeling needs to come up in me and be acknowledged and addressed. Right now, I feel blessed to have had such a loving, kind, funny, supportive, wonderful mother. If that makes me cry, so be it. If it makes me smile, so be it. Everything is all good in this moment.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you always.