Today would have been my mother’s 77th birthday. It is difficult to believe she has been gone for 20 years. It is difficult to believe she died at age 57. I am almost that age and I feel that my life is just beginning. There is a world of adventure and fun I am still looking forward to.
The catch-phrase these days is “bucket list.” I don’t have a bucket list. What I do have is a very vivid imagination. I see myself, one day, as a very old woman (my maternal grandmother is 103, surely I have some of her longevity genes swimming around somewhere in my body). I see myself surrounded by family – children, grands and greats. And, I’m still destined to live in a quaint, secluded beach house on a beautiful shoreline.
The things my mother missed I will get to experience for both of us. Retirement – days with my husband, traveling to all of those places. Doing all of those things that were postponed because raising children took priority. I will read all of the books she never got to. I will tend the garden she never saw. I will see my grandchildren born, graduate from college, marry, and present me with great-grandchildren.
I will one day bury my grandmother, and one day, when I am very, very old, and have lived a long full life, my children and grandchildren will spread my ashes along my favorite stretch of beach and remark what a full life I was fortunate to lead.
I’ll do it for us both, Mom. Happy birthday.
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