Today would have been my mom’s 58th birthday; she died of breast cancer four and a half years ago.
Recently, a new friend asked what it is like: do I miss her every day? What kinds of things do I miss about her? What things do I remember?
I don’t miss her every day, but I do miss her often.
I miss her most when I’m gardening or cooking, because those were two of the things she loved to do most. I plant petunias and impatiens and begonias because she did. I make potato salad her way. I remember her words about how to wash a turkey or not to roast tomatoes in a metal pan.
On our birthdays, Mom would always ask us what we wanted for dinner and what kind of cake we wanted. Yes, she always gave us gifts, too, but the cake and dinner is what I remember and miss the most.
Today it is her birthday. She probably would have wanted coffee-flavoured cake with hazelnut icing. Or just some sour cream glazed donuts from Tim Horton’s, accompanied by coffee, of course.
(Have I mentioned that I started drinking coffee at 16 because my mom did? Little did she know the monster she created…)
Like I said, hindsight lives on.