I’ve been thinking all day about what to write on this day.

It’s been side-stepping me, to be honest. I went from not wanting to say anything, to wanting to say everything, to just waiting for this day to pass.

For those of you reading, I apologize. I am not my normal sunny self today but, this day will pass and I’m sure you’ll understand. For the moment, though, I’d like to write to my mom.

Dear Mom,

Today’s your birthday. Funny. It crept up on me without me taking much notice until, this morning, I clocked my calendar over and there it was. It’s always been remarkable to me that both you and dad were born on the 27th of different months. A funny coincidence, probably and, that would be a nice thought if I believed in coincidences. I don’t anymore. I just believe that things happen as they are meant to, and even when they are untenably crap, they do pass. Even more importantly, when wonderful things happen, one should savour them, capture them and envelop oneself in the mystery of that moment. Moments pass too quickly, and sadly, life does too.

Yours passed way too quickly for my liking but, there is nothing I can do to change that. All I can do is live on, and hope, somehow, that I’m making you proud.

It’s Sunday, and I’m sitting at my computer with tea and a cigarette. A true Jenkin artform, that is. We’re brilliant at it. Heh. Yes, I know, I need to stop smoking. I will when I’m ready. You know this about me. I’ll only do things when I am good and ready. You knew that from when I was potty-training. Teehee.

Mom, Cameron lost her first tooth. I wasn’t at home, I was at parent’s evening. Paul covered that life event for me and he did it so damn well. Lucky, lucky, lucky me. When I was creeping into Cam’s room to nick the tooth, and replace it with a fairy’s blessings of five Rand, your voice resonated in my head. Once, when I was little, I heard you filling up our Christmas stockings hung on our door handles. When I asked who was there, you said “shut up and go back to sleep, it’s the Christmas fairy”. Thing is, mom, in my sleepy-headed state, I believed that. In fact, if there’s one thing I can thank you for, and wish to carry on with Cameron, it is the childhood belief in fairies and pixies, and an encouraged imagination. Forget that, encouraged is the wrong word. Absolutely stimulated and nurtured imagination. I’m proud that she’s obsessed with mermaids, and has created a whole notion of the wild mermaids who live deep in the ocean, complete with expressions and fearsome eyes. I’m proud that she lives for stories, and loves the written word, even though she’s still just learning to read. Cam loves rhyme, and she picks it out of every day, or inserts it into conversation. She high-fives me when she gets it right, and giggles when we make words rhyme with pooh. It’s the silly things but, they are the ultimately important.

I’m happy, mom. I’ve done nearly all the things you told me to do, just before you died. That hazy afternoon, with Cam snuggled in with you, we talked and I knew what I had to do. I’m thankful for the opportunity to feel that through. Some people don’t get it, and if anything, I am grateful that I had that afternoon. It was just us, and I think I learnt more then, become more sure-footed then, than I have ever been in my entire life. Thank you for helping me to make and live a plan of action that would enable me to reach a quiet happiness that has become a theme of my life. I know it’s what you and Dad always wanted for me to have, but knew you couldn’t give it to me outright. You knew I had to make it on my own, and live towards it. Now I live towards that theme every single day, no matter what that day brings. And, I won’t stop, nor let anyone derail me from that.

That’s made me a little unpopular with some people and, I realise now, that they’re actually not that important. Thank you for that clarity, and ability to suss out a way through difficulties. To do that, with a smile on my face and a heart at rest – that is your greatest gift to me.

Grief is such a funny thing, mom. It doesn’t stop you from living, you just live differently. You never get used to it, it just becomes part of what you do. In a way, that’s liberating to know. I never knew that before.

Paul just arrived to give me flowers. Bless. Just because he knew today would be hard for me. Lucky, lucky, lucky me.

I hope you’ve had a good day, mom. Whatever it is that you’re up to, or not. Who knows really. All I hope is that you’re proud, you’re happy and that you’re at peace.

Happy Birthday to the UM. Tell dad you’re off duty tonight and he should make his famous omelette for dinner. And that he can be in charge of washing up afterwards. 😛


3 thoughts on “27.02.2011”

  1. crying.

    ” Now I live towards that theme every single day, no matter what that day brings. And, I won’t stop, nor let anyone derail me from that.

    That’s made me a little unpopular with some people and, I realise now, that they’re actually not that important. ”

    you’re right.

    your mama is so proud. i know it. i am, too. x

  2. This makes me sad friend but proud of you for dealing with such a heartbreaking situation so gracefully. I know your mama is proud of you too. And Im glad you have sweet Paul to bring your flowers and be there for Cam when she loses her teeth! Sending you big hugs and virtual damascus x

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