My Mother's Legacy of Love as Seen In Birthdays (Patreon)

My mother died on Sept 26th... almost exactly a month before by 55th birthday on the 28th of this month.

And it's hitting me hard.

Of course, SOME birthday was always going to be my first after my mother died, just like I'll face the first Thanksgiving without my mother next month, the first Christmas a month after that, the first New Years Day after that, and then my first wedding anniversary the month after that... and then my wife's first birthday since Mom died. There is some important celebration my mother always made special coming every month for the next five months.

Those will be different, though. By Thanksgiving we'll have had her funeral. I'll have written her obituary. I'll know well in advance that planning is not going to include here this year. The pain, I hope, will be a dull bruise on my heart rather than the sharp cut of bleeding loss.

But my birthday? It was literally a celebration for the both of us. My mom often called me at the official hour of my birth, because she knew I'd be up. She shared the story of giving birth to me many times... going into labor on a gurney in the hospital hallway as they tried to get her into a room. The doctor being held up with a previous birth, and nurses telling her to "pant like a puppy" to delay my arrival. "I don't want to pant like a puppy," my mother replied. "I want to PUSH."

Lots of mothers talk about being in labor for hours. My mom told me the minute the doctor arrived, I came RIGHT after. She also told me the time on my birth certificate is wrong. The doctor, she noted, barely showed up before I did and had a lot of things to do before he checked them time and wrote it down. My mother was looking AT THE CLOCK, and knew EXACTLY when I arrived.

In many ways, time with my mother as a child defined my birthdays. She put a LOT of effort into entertaining me and my friends at each year's party. She hnad-made pinatas, which we'd beat the heck out of. She had a snack round and a cake round. She had a LIST of activities and games, and would pull them out as our energy level and focus called for. And, as I got older, she let me have 12-16 kid sleepovers, where we took over the living room and watched rented movies on our VHS all night. My mom's birthday parties were so epic, my friends' moms would call her and say "SO, Bryan mentioned at Owen's party there was this balloon-popping game, and... an ice cream bomb?"

Mom was also the gift meistress, getting gifts that were both what I wanted and, as appropriate, what I needed. She did the gift buying for the gifts from all my grandparents and most of my aunts, uncles, family friends, and older-generation cousins. I once assured my Uncle Lucian that what I wanted for my 10th birthday was a REALLY good thesaurus. He was dubious, and called my mom. She assured him I really WAS a logophile. And rather than buy me one thesaurus, he bought me three -- Roget's International, the Historical Thesaurus of the Oxford English Dictionary, and a compiled book of multiple specialist/industry specific thesauri. I adored them, and kept them into my 40s... at which point they fell apart from use, and online options finally hit the same level of utility.

But the best story of my mother and her care and focus on my birthday, is that she once scheduled a local scifi convention on my birthday. She was on the planning committee for a new convention (which was actually a previous convention changing names and scaling up), and no one could decide if it should be in the crowded summer months, or try to establish itself in the fall. She pitched doing it on my birthday, BECAUSE it was my birthday, and no one had any reason not to. And my gift from her that year? Membership for the whole weekend, and two suites, which she chaperoned the whole weekend, so my friends could all come sleepover, at the con, all weekend.

It was epic.

Of course, as I became an adult Mom did a lot less planning... but she had set my mental image of a perfect birthday. My wife has made me many pinatas over the years, and my adult friends have enjoyed whacking the heck out of them. As recently as my 30s, I did gaming weekend birthday sleepovers. Much more recently, I have had activity-focused birthdays with things like miniatures and paint for everyone to tackle a mini--no matter how good or bad their skills are, and with materials I provided.

But Mom's always been included in my plans. Be it a special call to her when I was living out of state, to family dinners at a restaurant with the family, my birthday has never been devoid of her love and involvement.

And now, I am exactly when I should be planning it... and I can't bring myself to. Every time, it sparks that cold, unlit, emotionless void that seems to be the manifestation of my grief over her death. I normally look forward to my birthday. It's date of October 28th is the reason I love Halloween so much. And for the past few years, either Covid lockdowns, pneumonia, or cancer treatment has kept me from being able to do much. I had hoped this year would finally be a return to a big party--but with my change in cancer-watch protocol, and the loss of my mother, I just literally can't make myself plan such a thing.

I miss you, Mom. And I know that the huge void in my life, and in my joy for my upcoming birthday, are just testament to how hard you worked to celebrate my existence every year, and imbue that day with so much joy and enchantment.