Eighty-eight

[greatbearmd]

Today would've been Mom's 88th birthday. While time has indeed soften the edge of loss, it doesn't take a lot to bring me into that sad, cold feeling of loss. The first half of this month, in fact, once a personal period of happiness in our tiny family, with my birthday, then hers, topping off with Valentine's Day by simple fact that Valentine was Mom's first name (it's pronounced "Valentina," but an error in translation/spelling when she came to the states in the early 50s made the unique spelling stick, not such a bad thing really) makes a good excuse to have another celebration day. After all, I get Groundhog Day by dint of sharing my first name with a certain weather prognosticating furrball in Pennsyltucky, so why not make cozy wintertime hay with it? As one might expect, coupling these days of yore and the pleasant memories they had entailed with the remaining cold, grey winter and my disabilities and pain puts me into a bit of a funk. I try my best to push on, remembering all the good stuff, quietly playing records I haven't spun in decades, surrounding myself with the two little pooches who obviously sense something, and waiting till Jeff gets home. We went out for a nice little dinner at a local place, and some more minor parts had arrived while we were out that pertain to the IT infrastructure at Mayhem Acres, so while Jeff studies for a seminar tomorrow, I am down in the bowels of electronic underpinnings of La Casa putting the final touches on a new server, listening to obscure prog rock and classical and trying to keep myself composed. It's all I really can do these days, as Spring slowly arrives in six more weeks, more attention will be focused on some very important changes here and the frigid grey funk a memory.

I lost Mom nearly 8 years ago, but her birthday will always be a special day for me. I celebrate with her spirit that lives on around me.