Remembering a mother’s birthday

If my biological mother were still alive, she would be celebrating her 99th birthday today. My wife Pat and I were visiting about that the other day and in looking ahead next Sep. 24 would mark 100 years since she was born.

From time to time I’ve written in this column about my birth mother Mary. I know this may sound extremely strange, but I actually was not aware of her birthday until about 36 years ago.

I’m bad about keeping old things around, but I have some notes I jotted down from 36 years ago when I learned of her actual birthday. I knew the year she was born in was 1921 and she died at the young age of 30 in 1951 two days before Christmas.

Just didn’t know her actual birthday, although I knew the day she and my dad were married.

From what I understand, she was diagnosed with acute leukemia in around August-September of 1951.

I have some photos of her with family and friends that were taken in July and August, just a few months before she passed away.

I don’t remember much about my mother. I can recall a few times being around her, like when I locked myself in the bathroom and others, but I was just 3 ½ years old at the time she passed away.

I can distinctly remember the last night I saw her with other family members gathered around the bed as she kissed me good night for the final time. It was at my grandparents’ house where we had been staying for a while before she passed away.

For whatever reason, my dad wouldn’t talk much about her. I couldn’t understand that. Not sure if it was too painful for him or what.

But he just told me little about her. While I was young still, I’d occasionally hear him mention her name when he was visiting with another family member or a close friend.

Maybe I wasn’t inquisitive enough. It’s just hard to say.

About 2 ½ years later dad married my mother’s sister and almost three years before she passed away at the age of 90 I spent one afternoon with her and we visited about her some. But that was mostly about their growing up together.

It had always been difficult for her to talk abou my mother. In fact, she would break down and cry until that afternoon she and I were alone and visited.

From the photos I have of mother, I knew she was a beautiful woman. Our daughter Meghan favors her and that can be seen in photos we have side by side in our home.

My aunt Bonnie, who I have written about, would talk openly about my mother. She lived with her family in Irving, Texas and I just didn’t take the time often enough to visit with her about mother when I was around her.

Even though I didn’t know her very well, I’ll continue to observe her birthday in my own way, and also remember her on or close to the day she died and on Memorial Day. That does provide some comfort to me.