Yesterday marked the 20th anniversary of my mother’s death. What’s usually a very somber day for me went by without much thought. And that is both a triumph and disturbing to me at the same time. A triumph because that means that time really does heal the heart, but disturbing because every day I miss my mother and this milestone day went by without my taking extra time for her remembrance.
To be honest, I have it in my head that her anniversary is the 25th this year. See, on the Jewish calendar the day is always the same but date on the secular calendar that matches the Jewish calendar date is not always the same. I know, it’s kind of weird. It’s the same reason Hanukkah is sometimes around Thanksgiving and other years (like this year) around Christmas. But, I got a letter from the synagogue reminding me that my mom’s yahrzeit (Yiddish for anniversary, but only used with reference to the anniversary of a death) will be November 25th. I was so glad to know that because I had thought it would be on the 11th and I’d be at Disney World (although, I’m sure my mom would approve of being remembered while at Disney World). So, I pushed it to the post-Disney part of my brain.
But November 6th came and nearly went, without me breaking down because I miss my mom. The day was not the sad reminder that she’s been gone almost half my life. Instead, my thoughts of her were of the joys I had as a child and young adult and how she’d be so proud of me. And as I closed my eyes to go to sleep it was then I realized that soon I will have lived more than half my life without her.
I belong to the sorority of motherless-daughters. I wish I didn’t. But I am grateful to have had the 21 years with the amazing woman who was my mother.