November 8th

Robyn & KathyMy mom still has a Facebook page. I’m not sure how to make it go away. I’d probably have to get my dad’s permission to do it, and I’m not sure I want to have to take that three-way phone call. (Remind me to tell you the story of his cable bill.) Anyway, the fact that my mom has a Facebook page means that I’m reminded every November 8th that it would have been her birthday. And anyone who is still “friends” with my mom on Facebook is reminded too. I inevitably get a few well-meaning messages about her from some of those people. I know they don’t mean to open a wound, but this is what I’d like to say:

I know you mean well. But please don’t tell me how to feel. On her birthday, I feel sad and angry that she was taken from us when she was, the way she was. She will never have a relationship with her only granddaughter. Jackson can only remember bits and pieces. That’s not OK. I don’t need Facebook to remind me how young she was, how, instead of getting a party with a room full of people surrounding her, telling her to her face how they loved her, she got a funeral with so many people we had to get more tables and chairs, with people reminiscing about her, not with her. Sometimes, I’m OK with that whole, “she’s up in the sky” thing. But not on her birthday. She should be here on her birthday.

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