Birthdays are always wistful

I'm getting ready for Nick's birthday, pulling out decorations, getting the gifts together to wrap, cleaning house.  This yearly ritual makes me feel so close to my mom and grandmother.  I'll put his gifts on the same bar/dining cart that my mom always used, that my parents received as a wedding gift.  I'll think of birthdays and Christmases we celebrated in Germany, and how Oma always put my gifts on her bar cart.  Those little details are a thread that goes through time and connects us all.

I'll use some of the same wooden birthday decorations that my mom used for my birthdays, as well as ones I bought for Nick's very first birthday.  I'll think of all the birthdays they were used for, including Alex's bittersweet first birthday, a month after my mom died.

Tonight my dad and I will stay up late doing last minute preparations.  We'll share stories and memories and analyze the past, present, and future.  We'll have a glass of port.  Someday that will be another tradition that I will remember and carry on.  I'll go to bed feeling blessed that my dad and I can share these moments, and that I have a dad who helps me find the meaning in all of it.

My mom would be over the moon proud of Nick for his love and understanding of history, culture, current events, and so on.  All the things she hoped I'd be interested in, he is passionate about.  So just now as I was leafing through the newest Winston Churchill biography, Hero of the Empire: The Boer War, a Daring Escape, and the Making of Winston Churchill, that I got for Nick as a birthday gift, all I could think was how much I hope that wherever her spirit is, she knows and sees and feels glad.

And just like every year, I cry a little bit at her loss and the memories.  They're cathartic tears.  In our everyday life there isn't the time or the need for tears anymore.  We've grown, and we've grown used to her absence.  We now get to choose the parts of her that we want our lives to reflect.  So a few times a year it feels really good to feel flooded by memories and emotion.

Tomorrow is Nick's birthday.  We'll miss my mom, but it will be ok and we'll have a terrific day.  I'm so grateful that she taught me how to make life meaningful, how to accept sadness, and how to celebrate with abundant joy.  Today I'll let myself feel a little sad, and tomorrow I'll wake up with joy in my heart as my son turns eleven years old.