Happy Birthday Mom

Mother Nature thwarted my Mother's birthday party. A huge storm passing through my sister Diane's town and heading to my Dad's meant she couldn't make the trip down. He called the bakery and explained his dilemma and they offered to bake him a new one tomorrow. (Quelle service!)

"Mom won't know if her birthday's today or tomorrow," he said, so best to play it safe.

But she might know what cake is. Or what singing is. My Dad has always maintained that we don't know what she knows or hears or processes, so he treats her as though she understands, and if the nurses need to speak to him about her, he leads them outside the room, and he includes her in those conversations happening in the room. He doubted there was any recognition, but you just never know. How could you know?

Then a few months ago my father took a break and went to Holland for ten days. He only agreed to go after securing Diane's and Terence's promises that my Mom would be visited every day in his absence. Holland was good for him and he enjoyed spending time with his brother and sis-in-law, eating the comfort food of his youth and travelling.

And it was good to come home, too. He went to go see my Mom, who is home for him... and she cried.  She took his face in her hands and cried and kissed his cheeks over and over and over again. She knew. And she'd missed him.

He spends every afternoon and dinner with her, and always will until death parts them. In the meantime, he will bring her roses every June 25th, and cake every January 13th, but most importantly, he'll bring her love and companionship every day in between.

Happy 77th Birthday Mom. Enjoy your twice-baked cake.

I love you both.

♥

(My sister-in-law Carala took this photo about four years ago and I love it. I believe it's the last portrait where she looks like herself.)