Birthday Girl Turns 86

Whatever I plan to do with Used to Be Mother, she has a more detailed and involved plan so I always come away with not feeling enough. Take today for example: her 86th Birthday. Yesterday she had thought I would come for her, she would spend the night and all day today and she wouldn't be until after dinner. What I had planned was taking her to see Dad's gravesite which she had been asking to do for a few weeks and then out for lunch.

When she discovered I wasn't buying into her plan, she grew quite argumentative and testy. For her the day was a disappointment. For me the day was full of guilt and resentment.

It started out on the wrong foot when I came to pick her up. She was wearing her summer white slacks on which she had spilled some strawberry jam from breakfast. She resisted my suggestion to change her clothes because they were dirty. She's gained some weight from all the daily cookies so I imagine these pants feel better. She also just didn't know what to wear with the white top and sweater she also was wearing. These are difficult decisions for her now.

Though my father's birthday is earlier in the month, we always celebrated it the same day as Used to Be Mother's. At the time his birth was registered with the Government of Canada, the registration date was entered as his birth date. I thought a wreath of flowers might be nice to put on his grave. Used to Be Mother wondered why I was bothering with all that.

When we arrived at the cemetery, she was "shocked" at how many wreaths and memorials people have left for their deceased. She was "shocked" that she and Dad did not have a headstone. She was "amazed" that her name was already on the plate.

UTBM: Why is my name on there? Is this where I am going to be buried?

Me: Yes Mom right beside Dad.

UTBM: I want to go to heaven not here. I don't imagine they let Dad into Heaven.

This made me laugh right out loud.

And then onto her favourite topic these days: Where is heaven? I heard Holly was there already.

For lunch we had some soup and a matrimony square (date bar) which she began nibbling before we even sat down. After she drank her cranberry juice and finished her treat, she announced that she was full and couldn't eat it. She wondered if the lady sitting at the table next to us wanted her soup.

All the way home she reminded me of her disappointment that she couldn't stay with us, that  we didn't want her, that she could just be so helpful to us if we let her live with us. I am so tired of explaining why this isn't a good idea. I am tired of feeling guilty.

There is a peppy tune playing on the radio and she begins tapping her hands in rhythm.

UTBM: Oh this is such good music Darling.

We pull up to her complex and my heart is heavy from this very unfulfilling time together.

Happy Birthday Momma. I hope Heaven comes soon.