No, this is not about horror movies or supernatural affairs but about my own personal affliction with Friday 13ths. They are not scary to me like they are to so many superstitious people. What can I say, I was born on one and I never considered it a disadvantage, on the contrary. I take it as a sign that I’m extra lucky because despite everyone thinking it’s a bad omen, I got a pretty decent hand dealt. Mostly.
Today is another one of those Friday 13ths and it coincides with Mom’s birthday. She would have turned 59 this year but she isn’t here anymore, obviously. I don’t always get melancholic over it but I did right now. There is not much I can do to celebrate her birthday or to avoid thinking about this day, not that I really want to do either. The truth is, it doesn’t hurt more or less than other days, like my own Friday the 13th birthday this year, like Christmas, Mothers Day, every day.
I miss her constantly and also not at all.
Perhaps that is the most confusing part about losing a parent. Or it is at least for me. There are days I wish I could ask her opinions and guidance; that I want to share my highs and lows with her but I can’t. At the same time, I’m still ravelling in my freedom and my almost lack of attachments and supervision. It’s both intimidating and liberating to be on your own with every decision. I’m more torn up about said conflicting concepts occurring at the same time than I am actually sad which in return makes me sad. A second-tier sadness if you like.
I’m wearing one of her necklaces today so that I have a part of her with me. Another part that isn’t half of my DNA; my memories and feelings. Something material. I don’t know why it matters to me but it somehow does.
It’s weird knowing both our birthdays fall on a friday this year. Maybe it’s always that way and I never noticed it before. Unless the year is a leap year, the distance between our birthdays is the same so maybe it happened before and I’m sure it will happen again but as I am in the here and now, this is my way of making sure I noticed at least once.
People tell me I look like her and I never saw it that way. I hardly see the resemblance outside of our green eyes. I see them more in our mannerisms and such things though the only one that comes to mind right now is the fact that we both didn’t/don’t (the use of tenses still confuses me and it’s been 2.5 years) like to sleep in pajama pants, only t-shirts. There is more though, I know there is more even if I can’t remember right this instant.
Feelings fade. Memories fade. The connection is still there as it will always be. I’m sometimes afraid that I’m losing it but then I’m also convinced that isn’t possible. I can’t honour her in any other way than by trying to be the best version of myself that I can be. On this day especially but on every given day. Honest. Direct. Loyal. A good friend. Compassionate. Open-minded. Myself.
I am forever indebted to her for giving me life and teaching me love. And there is our missing link, I guess. The most important thing between us.