And so it begins

I try to keep this blog light-hearted, more or less. I've had my moments, sure, but I tend to NOT blog about things that are bothering me. Partially it's self-preservation: I'm just not that comfortable baring THAT much of my soul in public (that's what sisters, friends, SO's and therapists are for, and I'm blessed with very good ones in each category!)

And, partially, it's because sometimes the baring of my soul will involve other people, and that just doesn't seem fair.

But, tonight, I'm going to break with tradition somewhat. Not sure why, other than I'm feeling a little melancholy.

This weekend (actually Sunday) marks the first in a series of related milestones for me.

My mother died when I was not yet nine. She was 42. I was the youngest of her children (and, I guess, still am!)

I'm now 42, and on Sunday, Grace, my youngest, turns 9. This will be followed in a few months (ok, 6) by my birthday, when I will be older than my mother ever was. Technically, I suppose, that day will come sometime next January (she died in October, before her birthday in January), but I think that my birthday, when my age changes, will be the day that brings it home for me.

So, yes, in a sense this is a good milestone; other than the fact that it's Grace's birthday, which is always a good thing, it means that, regardless of what else happens, she will be older when I die than I was when my mother died.

But that's a really morbid thought! My Nana always used to say that once her husband died (in 1946 or so) she wanted to get her youngest, then 4 or 5, out of high school, and considered any time after that to be bonus. She lived till 1992, so she had, by my calculations, about 30-odd bonus years! But I always, as a teenager, thought that that was the darkest, most morbid way of looking at things! Why think about when it's OK to die!!!

I now realize that it's not that simple. The death of a loved one affects us in ways we'll never completely understand, at least partially because it affects us forever, and we're constantly changing. I remember what I felt at 8, and I know what I feel at 42. The feelings are very different, and I'm sure that at 52 and 82 they will be different still.

So, no, I'm not sitting around checking off things on some karmic bucket list (Got both kids past age 8, check.) I haven't decided it's OK to die now -- quite frankly, I plan on getting grandkids to age eight and beyond, and that better be decades from now! And, yes, I will cherish every day I have with my children.

But I'm also really glad that my daughter will not have to go through the death of a parent as young as I did.