Normally, I write this post on April 14, but as I think we're all aware of by now, it's not exactly been a normal year. Besides, there's a certain parallel present this year that I think has made it more difficult to let myself think about this topic more than necessary.
Because this year, I turned 26. Don't get the significance? Well, let me put it this way: 17 years ago, on Wednesday, April 14, 1993 (even the days of the week are the same), my mom passed away at the age of 26. Yeah, that'll do it.
In all my years of birthday festivities, this was the one I did not celebrate.
The crazy thing is that this year, though the most dreaded of all, has been probably my most successful year to date:
I got a job. Career-related job.
I bought a home.
I graduated with my master's degree.
And I still have five months left in the year.
All the same, it's been hard to think about her this year, knowing that once I complete the ninth month of this birth year, I will have already lived a longer life than my mom did. For me, that's a bit traumatizing. On top of all this, I've gotten to see people from our past that I've not seen in years--some even since she was alive. They knew her when she was a young teen. They watched her succumb to paralysis.
They can remember her better than I can.
That's the part that hurts the most--the fact that I can't remember much anymore.
Do I have a point beyond this? No, not today. I just wanted to clarify that, yes, it still sucks, perhaps this year more so than many others.