The Trouble with Birthdays

“Life doesn’t come with a manual, it comes with a mother.” — Unknown

It’s my birthday. The big 4–8. I’m celebrating it exactly the way I like…quietly. I always tease my family about what a big deal this is…like April is my birthday month, then there is pre-birthday week, birthday week, birthday eve, the actual birthday, post-birthday week, etc. It’s obnoxious and fun, but especially funny because I’m not really a big deal birthday kind of girl.

Today, I am especially thinking about my Mom and missing her a lot. It seems fitting that one would give thanks to the woman who gave one life. My Mom used to text me first thing in the morning and then call me later in the day. She would always tell me that she knew it was my birthday because she would get phantom labor pain to remind her of this day. It was the same joke every year, but we laughed about it every time. I miss her giggle.

When your Mother passes away birthdays hit differently. Who else can say they’ve known you in the same way that your Mother has? This is the trouble with birthdays. When your Mom is gone you grieve her on her birthday..and then you quickly realize that you grieve her on every other birthday as well.

Empty Chairs, Everywhere is a personal grief diary as I process the loss of my Mother to COVID-19.