First birthday without mum

first birthday without my mum

I love birthdays.

I love them because they are about celebration of life.

And I love life.

Every day should be a celebration of life, but we do not stop and “smell the roses” as often as we should. So, birthdays are there, as are any anniversaries, to stop for at least a moment and appreciate the day in life when it all started. A new life, a new love, a new union…

I will be 46 in less than a couple of weeks time. And it is stirring up all kinds of emotions just thinking about it.

It will be 248 days without mum on my birthday… and there is so much to miss…

The very first birthday greeting on the day always came from my mum. She made sure of it.

“Who did I give birth to today?”, she would say in a tiny voice like speaking to a child. (“Koga sam ja danas rodila?”)

This just never got old.

I never gave it a second thought, but now, in retrospect, it felt good to be someone’s child. Even at my age.

I wonder how can a birthday be a birthday without that greeting, her voice, her smile, kiss, hug… the best home made cake she would make in my honour…

My birthday was her birthday.

You see, every mother, every parent loves their child, I surely would do anything for mine two, but, when there are years of longing for that child to come into existence, wondering if it ever will… and when it finally does – it kind of is rather special. To that parent, that is (of course, every child is special, or none of us are).

I was a long-awaited child that came after 15 years of my parents getting married. They dreamt about me for years and even gave me a name to signify that. “San” in Bosnian means a “dream”. I was born out of a dream and out of such love between two romantics. No wonder I am a dreamer with full heart.

So, my birthday will possibly be a hard day.

Person who gave me life is in a form that I am not able to fully understand or find it in me to fully accept at times.

But, life must go on and celebrating my life also means honouring hers. And dad’s.

Because, if anything her death has taught me, is that life is a gift and nothing but a gift. And I was my parent’s.

This first birthday without her will be hard, but I know it will get better and I will learn to remember her with smile as I do now when I think of dad.

For now, it is still raw.

We never know when our days are counted, but, until they are, instead of counting days, or birthdays as a matter a fact, it is about breathing life into every single day. Anything less than that is not honouring the gift of life, including those who dreamt of us and gave us that life as well as everyone else still present in it or yet to come into it.

So, despite a broken heart, I choose life and I choose to live it with all my love, great health and happiness in my heart, always…

My parents would not have dreamt of anything less than this for me and, as they continue to live through me, celebrating my life celebrates theirs also.

With much love and gratitude…

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