This date will always be memorable for two reasons, which also happen to be basically the same. Birthdays. The first; one of the good friends that I made at uni celebrates his birthday on this day. The second; my mums’ birthday.
I never used to acknowledge this day. I used to just carry on like it was just a normal day, not that it wasn’t, but that it wasn’t significant. Sometimes I would feel sad, but never actually acknowledge why I felt that way. Majority of the time, I would just keep it moving. About two years ago though, that changed.
November as a whole is bitter sweet. My Dad celebrates his birthday on the 26th, and every year I thank God for giving me yet another year with him. I don’t know what I would do without him, because to lose both parents? I feel for those who have. There have been many times where I’ve dreamed that an emergency happened in relation to my Dad. I don’t even like to speak on it too much, because it would just turn my whole world upside down all over again. So every year I thank God again, because I know that our time is borrowed. November also sees the birthday of another one of my friends, the day before my Dads’. 4 birthdays. It’s also however, a reminder that the anniversary of her death is approaching, but I don’t like to think about that.
About two years ago, I actually started acknowledging her on her birthday. I don’t do much. I haven’t even been to her graveside in years; I just can’t bring myself to do it. I acknowledge her by looking at pictures. There’s a picture that I’ve been posting on my Snap every year. It’s a collage of me from a photoshoot and her from her wedding day. We’re both smiling, big grins, teeth and all, and it’s like looking at the same person twice. It’s crazy because I hear so often that I’m like her in so many ways, yet every year, or whenever I look at that picture, I’m surprised all over again. I am really my mother’s twin.
People comment all the time. Not loads of people, but more than I expect. I don’t expect anyone to, but I always get those few. I don’t even do it for the comments, I just prefer to remember her birthday rather than her death. This whole ‘self-healing’ that I’m trying to do to get me through what feels like never-ending grief, has lots of aspects and with every new one I see a growth in myself that I’m proud of.
There was a time when I lived like she never existed, then a new teacher came to my school. She was my favourite! I could talk to her for ages, with ease and considering that I find it hard to talk to people about issues relating to myself, this was major. Through my teacher I was forced to acknowledge her. I was able to talk about my Mum with her which in turn was helping me to heal. The following academic year, I was able to return the favour due to her loosing her Mum that summer. Speaking to me was like therapy but with empathy. I remember her telling me that it helped to speak to me, because I could understand what she was going through. This all got me into looking at pictures, with majority ending up on my wall. This probably even fuelled my love for taking pictures of people in the moment, because through those pictures, I can live my childhood again.
I then went to uni, took a picture of her with me which ended up on my wall. This forced me to have those awkward conversations, the ones that I had tried to avoid. I can’t remember a person who didn’t make reference to how much we look alike. Third year, I acknowledged where some or my pain was coming from. I wrote the blog post entitled ‘My Mother’ and acknowledged a lot of the things I had chosen to ignore. That same year, at a Bible study run by my friends at uni, I spoke to a room full of people about my Mum and what I had been going through. I wrote about that day in the blog post entitled ‘I Spoke!’. This led to me reading the ‘My Mother’ post out at my church for a mothers day program. Both times, unimaginable. A couple years ago, I would have never believed that I would have been doing that. I missed my mum more than ever. With all the stress that I had been going through, I just wanted a hug. I got this from someone else, but I just wish I could have gotten it from her. Then a desire to go to the graveside started occurring. I haven’t gone yet though, probably why it’s always on my mind. Finally, two days ago, I acknowledged my Mums’ birthday and got through the whole day without crying.
This month is always bitter sweet, but if anything, it’s a reminder of how far I’ve come. It’s proof to myself that all those who say that I’m strong, are really not lying. It’s one thing to hear someone say something about you, but to see exactly what they’re talking about is another. I’m honestly proud of myself. I’ve come this far, and I’m still going. I’m currently studying my Masters, something I know my Mother would have been proud of. Despite her not being here to see it, I’m proud of myself for even reaching this far. I still have a long way to go, but I’m thankful for how far I’ve come. I’ve achieved a lot more than I could have ever imagined.
Side note: I managed to write this whole post without crying. I admit, there are small, small tears in my eyes, but I’m smiling. I’m actually smiling.
I eat cake 