One Day Is Enough

Last year on this date, my mother died.

I’ve never been one to remember the date someone died. I know those that do and they treat these days with sad remembrance.

I know and remember the feeling of having a loved one die. This painful sadness is not something that I want to associate with dates that will just serve to remind me.

For 55 years, the day that I celebrated my mother was, her birthday, December 18th. Falling a week before Christmas, my mother’s birthday was the official kick-off of the holiday season. December 18th is associated with the best of times. Big gatherings of family and friends. Lots of presents and decorations. Amazing amounts of awesome food (i.e., hot mince pie with a big, melting scoop of Hood’s vanilla ice cream).

Today, I remember the pain of her passing. I miss my mother. I miss her every day but I don’t want to make November 14th a special day. It’s not a day to look back upon fondly.

Based on our life spent together, I’m choosing to remember December 18th. This is the day where our most wonderful memories live on.

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