23,675 Days

My mom died long ago, April 19, 1979 to be exact.   I always thought she was 65 when she died, but for some reason, I wanted to know how old she really was ...  because I don't remember.  Since my 65th birthday is on the horizon, I felt strangely connected to her life at this point.

So I did some searching and found this site on which I could calculate her age...   and there I found that her life lasted 23,675 days.  From June 14, 1914 to April 19, 1979.  64 years, 9 months, and 26 days.   Sheesh, I thought, I'm getting close.

So using my birthday of January 10, 1949, I started plugging in some dates.  And tomorrow, November 4, 2013, the 23,675th day of my life.   As of mid afternoon, I will have surpassed her life span.

Sobering. 

How have our lives been different?   I'm still nimble and flexible (thank you, yoga), I don't have old lady hair (at least I don't think I do), I'm still working full time.   When she was my age, she was dying of colon cancer, and mostly unaware of her feelings and energy.  I'm alive and healthy, and hopefully more and more aware of emotions and the energy that propels us.

I feel great sadness for her.  She never got to see her grandson grow up, get married, and become a father himself.  She never got to see her daughter (me) get a master's degree, or move forward on a career path that now spans over 40 years.   She was emotionally hobbled, and I think very unhappy with a lot of her life.   I don't ever remember seeing her cry (my dad either for that matter, even at her funeral).  Her life was short.

Sometimes I'm still angry that she died so young.  She and I had gotten much closer after my son was born.  We'd talk for hours on the phone.  I took great joy in making clothes for her (the year of the famous Christmas bathrobe).  I've missed having a best friend as I moved into adulthood.  And she was all of that.   She loved being a grandmother.  She would so relish in being a great grandmother.

I was orphaned by the time I was in my early 30's.   My dad died four years after my mom.  I wasn't there when either of them left their bodies.   I still think it was their final act of parental love, believing that they needed to "spare" me the sights and sounds of death (though, as a nurse, I've witnessed many transitions and I'm not afraid of them... ).  

I do have a sense of gratitude for all that she was to me and did for me.  I know that they were great sacrifices along the way.   We didn't have much money, yet they managed to save for my college education, among other things.  She, above all, supported my dreams.  She wanted better for me.....

I still miss her.   And in her memory, I hope to move forward to uncharted days with gratitude for her memory.