Happy Birthday to You: Birth and Death

Birth and Death  

Soon my husband and I will be making the 7-hour drive upstate to visit my mom, sisters, and brother-in-law. This visit is timed to celebrate Mom’s birthday. She will be 92 years old.

I am leery of this event because people tend to die after birthdays as well as after the very important winter holidays. That being said, I’m not sure that my mom is even aware that her birthday is coming up or that it would mean much to her even if she were. I started mentioning it to her last month, and I know my siblings have been doing the same as we make plans for the family get-together and celebration. However, Mom forgets. I’ve never had her ask me what month it is, just what day of the week, and since she can’t even remember her last name, I don’t know if she knows the month of her birthday any more. We can take less and less for granted as time goes by.

Unfortunately, there is another reason I am feeling superstitious. A few years back one of my sisters asked me how long I thought Mom would live. I don’t know why, but I responded, “92?” Ever since, I have geared myself up for this coming year to be the one in which she dies. It’s magical thinking with no basis in rational thought, but there it is looming in my brain. So it shouldn’t be surprising that I have spent more time than usual lately thinking about her death and what we will do.

Planning for Death and Grief  

Mom belongs to the Neptune Society, so there is no wondering about burial versus cremation, but what about the rest? Will we have a memorial service? Who would come? Who is left? Would we speak? I have nothing to say. (Don’t be snarky! I mean at a service. Obviously I have a lot to say or I wouldn’t be writing here on this blog where I seem to be more open and honest than anywhere else. But I digress—)

There is no church any more, so no minister to call on. Will we simply gather as a family? Have our own private wake? Stare at each other in exhaustion and dismay that here we are at another weird parental death? Drink with dedicated determination until we are either completely anesthetized or finally completely emotional and vulnerable? God, I hate that—being emotional and vulnerable. I like to hold myself tightly together and not break down in front of anyone. Maybe I don’t have to worry. At this point, my bitterness would probably block any access to grief.

But we all know that doesn’t work in the long run. The grief, like truth, is going to find its way out even if it’s only in bits and drabs over the course of years. Much healthier to use the rituals that accompany death to express feeling. That’s what they are for. But I’m not a healthy griever. Too much anger. Too much bitterness.

So I’m thinking that I need to have some discussion with my siblings while we are there as to what we plan to do when Mom does die.

A Birthday Present from Immigrations  

On a lighter note (Whiplash warning! Probably should have worked up some kind of transition here.) Mom has received an early gift. Or, rather we did on her behalf. Immigrations sent her renewed registration card! ( Click here to see the Immigrations and Dementia post.)

There was no in-home interview after the herculean effort we went through to obtain one. The card just unexpectedly showed up in the mail. I’m not complaining, mind you. It’s just that I was certain that all the additional documents I uploaded in September would not be the end of it. I fully anticipated that Immigrations would either reject the photo I took of Mom, fail to open the password-protected letter from her doctor even though I sent the password to them, or demand some entirely new set of requirements. Then, we still had the interview to schedule and get through.

I don’t know what happened. Maybe they just gave up or took one look at her photo and realized they were beating a dead horse. Pffft. Doubt it. They probably just moved on to other prospects to torment. Whatever the reason, we were stunned and relieved to be done with the whole ridiculous process.

So, yippie! A little bit of sunshine in my thundercloud of a post.

For a related post regarding thoughts about impending death, click here to read “Guilt in Caregivers.”

 

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