Today is Mom's 70th birthday. I wonder what we would have done to celebrate her birthday if she were still here. My parents have always gone out of their way to make my birthdays special, but we've never had a big blow-out party for either of them. I remember some large gatherings at our home for my parents' 50th birthdays, but nothing beyond that. For my 30th birthday, my parents (with Mom taking the lead) put together a huge surprise party at a fancy restaurant for me. They invited people from all parts of my life to come out and celebrate my 30 years of life. Designed invitations and place mats, debate over what the entrees and appetizers would be... Mom did it even though it wasn't easy for her given her health. And then, she wasn't even able to make it out because she had fallen and injured her tailbone. For all the work she had put into making my birthday special, she was stuck at home in a hospital bed, unable to see me enjoy the celebration she had put together for me.
I've never had a hard time remembering the date my parents were born, but I sometimes have forgotten to keep track of the days so that I actually remember their birthday when it matters. I feel sick about that. This year, I had thought to myself for a while about my mom's birthday, which falls just a few days after my wedding anniversary and a few weeks after my wife's birthday. I thought about what it would be like on her birthday, and how this would be her first birthday not here. And yet, despite those thoughts, somehow the days managed to slip past me and suddenly my dad was mentioning on a call that he would be heading to the cemetery to see Mom on her birthday. I couldn't believe I hadn't remembered today sooner.
If Mom were here today, I'd like to think that I would have been stressed out for the past month planning something for her birthday. I'd be in Michigan today, flown in to be a part of a big birthday party that we were throwing for her. It would be at a fancy restaurant, and there would be fancy invitations, custom place mats, and debate about entrees and appetizers. I'd wear a suit, the same one I got married in, and I'd have bought Mom a gift that I hope would have brought a giant smile to her face. The evening would dwindle, the guests would slowly thin out, and we'd take Mom home to get some rest. And that night, after the excited had worn down, and from that day on, Mom would be able to cherish the memory of our outward expression of how much she meant to us.