Every few years my birthday falls on Mother’s Day. This used to be an occasion of great celebration. This is one of those years when my birthday coincides with Mother’s Day but since my mother passed away two and a half years ago this one will be very different. For one thing I will spend it alone. The only relative I have in the area is a cousin and she will be spending the day with her children and grand children. My brother will be moving back here from Texas in the next few weeks but is currently tying up some loose ends after living in Houston for 6 years.
I will spend the day celebrating my Mother’s long and wonderful life. (The picture on the left is of my mother and I on my 2nd birthday in 1948)
She was born in Moscow, Idaho in 1922 to the children of of Swedish immigrants and grew up on the plains of Eastern Washington. She played the cello and I understand she played it very well. She moved to Oregon when she was 18 with my grandparents where she met my father. They were married but a few weeks after their marriage my father was drafted and she didn’t see him again for 3 years. Communication was difficult during WWII and she actually read that my father had been decorated with a bronze star in the local paper. When my father returned they wasted little time and I became part of the leading edge of baby boomers having been born 1 year and 2 days after VE day. She was for the most part a stay at home mom until my younger brother entered high school. I have nothing but good thoughts about growing up in a middle/upper middle class neighborhood in Portland, Oregon in the 50s. She was always there for me in spite of my ability to find trouble. In high school she had to go down several times to get me back into school after I was suspended for various infractions. She was never too upset and I think a part of her respected my rebellious ways. When I was in college she was busy with my younger sister and brother and we had much less interaction as it should be.
My graduation from college in 1968 did not come at a good time and I found myself in the Army. She worried about me in spite of the fact I was no where near SE Asia and sent several letters a week. Latter in life she offered support during multiple crisis including my rather nasty divorce.
I like to think that I at least partially repaid her as her 24/7 caregiver in her final years. I was holding her hand when she died .