The Suprise Party

So, tomorrow I have a birthday. A milestone, although in reality I suppose all birthdays are milestones; after all it is an additional year carved into your headstone. Each birthday is a year added to a life.

I won’t hear from my Mother tomorrow because she passed away recently. I still haven’t dealt with that issue completely because it’s still hard for me to deal with. It’s hard to know she isn’t here any longer. Oddly enough getting through tomorrow will help with closure. My emotional me will have issues; my logical me understands the cold hard actuality of her passing.

When I was nine or ten, I was in the third grade and we lived in the Grey House (my sister and I always named the houses where we lived). I don’t remember if it was the winter I went into the third grade or the winter before I went into the fourth grade, so I don’t remember my exact age. On my birthday, which was on a weekend, my Mother sent me to get a haircut. I remember being mad I had to walk to the barbershop through the snow. We were living in Portsmouth VA at the time and there was quite a bit of snow on the ground. I walked to the barbershop and got the haircut and walked back home to a surprise birthday party. That was why my Mother sent me away, so kids could come over for the party while I was out. It was like her to do that, it was her practical joker persona that did that sort of thing. I loved that part of her and although I don’t remember the year I remember the event and the birthday very well. It was a happy time in my life.

One of the reasons I still have a hard time with my Mother’s passing is because I didn’t feel as though I had compete closure because of family I didn’t hear from. My brother heard from two of my step-brothers and two he didn’t, my sister and I didn’t hear from them at all. Here’s a hint: clicking “Like” on a Facebook post isn’t a valid expression of sympathy for loss of family. I didn’t expect a card or flowers; however a message on FB or an email would have been nice. Two of my step-brothers live within mere minutes of the church where my Mother’s memorial service was held, yet they couldn’t be bothered to show up. My cousins and their Mother were there, as much for my brother Terry as for my sister and me and it really meant a lot to us that they were there. Sure my Mother was at times extremely hard to deal with. I know that better than anyone, but a memorial service is also for the survivors, for commiserating, for expressing sympathy for the loss of life and not for payback.

My half-brother couldn’t be bothered to even call anyone or to show up. It was his Mother as much as my brother’s, my sister’s and mine. Although no one that knows him was surprised he was a no-show.

I was surprised that at least my sister didn’t hear from the others and it pissed me off. My wife tells me I just need to get over it and I suppose she is right. And I’m no longer pissed off; now I think it’s just sad, sad, sad that at least my sister didn’t hear from them and it shows how little we actually mean to that side of the family, and that stark realism is extremely depressing.

I will miss my Mother’s call tomorrow and like this time every year I will fondly remember walking to the barbershop in the snow and walking back home to a surprise party that my Mother arranged and one of the best birthdays I’ve had. And I’ll smile in her honor and I’ll be happy for that memory of her.