Birthdays, 2020

 

Dear UD,

I find myself nostalgic for so many things lately. Birthday celebrations with you and mom and dad, parties with all of our extended families together, conversations on the phone with you and Mom, having my daughters living in my home, hosting exchange students, even life before smart phones or cell phones, and definitely life before the pandemic.

The world is so different this year of 2020. It’s riddled with pandemics, viruses, quarantines, political circus acts, videos of racism and police brutality, black lives matter protests, online-only education, unemployment, foreclosures of both homes and businesses, superstorms, civil unrest, tweets of utter stupidity, and so much more. We moved from reading dystopian literature to living dystopian life, yet what overshadows this year for me is that Mom’s not here to celebrate our birthdays together this year. It’s not right, UD, and it’s not okay. But it is what is. 

Mom was 20 years old when I was born, and I remember the last time we celebrated our birthdays in person together. In 2016, she turned 66 in August, so of course I turned 46 that November. At the time, I had just moved back to Missouri for the fall semester and was renting a house in Houston, so I hosted a family birthday party for mom. She was so happy because everyone came, and that’s all that mattered to her—time with those she loved.

Per typical celebrations in our family, we had tons of homemade food, presents, a homemade cake, and even BYOC, also known as “bring your own candle” (thanks to Sonny) for the birthday cake. And tons of people and craziness, but I remember Mom being so happy, and we took lots of photos.

Sam and Serena hosted my birthday party that November. Again, Mom was so happy to be celebrating my birthday with me in person.

It’s unfathomable that we lost her just a couple of years after that and that we’ll never celebrate a birthday together again.

Uncle David, I don’t have a strong ending, a life lesson, or a conclusion. I just miss you, miss mom and wish you were both here. Today, I’m doing things to honor and celebrate her—breakfast and conversation with Alaina (Granny loved her grandkids and spending time with them and was so proud of them), homemade chicken-veggie soup for lunch (Mom loved making soup and sharing food with her family and friends), pool time this afternoon (she was a lifeguard as a teen and loved swimming her whole life), Chinese takeout for dinner (not only did she love eating Chinese food, but it was the last meal we shared at a restaurant with her—all ten of her children and almost 30 of her grandchildren were there, so the restaurant had to push together a long row of tables so that we could all eat at the same “table”), and movie night with a friend (watching one of Mom’s favorite movies).

Happy 70^th birthday, Mom. You are missed; you are loved.

UD, we wish you and Mom were here right now, but as you and mom taught us, we will honor and remember our ancestry, our loved ones, our lessons learned. And we will celebrate birthdays and loved ones, both keeping close old memories and continuing to make new ones.

Love,

Rach