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I hate my Birthday. Please don’t take this out of context, I do not begrudge anyone having fun on their Birthday. However, Please respect my wishes.
Personally speaking my own Birthday has never been treated as a Special Day, at least as far back as I could remember. The excuse given was that I was born too close to Christmas. You see it was the time of year when fanatic materialistic people, hustled and bustled into a consumer frenzy. As a Mother, I tired to make every Birthday special for each of my children as special individuals.
My last child, my son, beat me on dates, he was born Dec. 23, 1974. He pretty much suffer the same fate as I did, from extended family. He was the light of my life beyond compare, he knew without a doubt that he was special to me.
On December 23, 1996, I traveled alone from Missouri to California to scatter his ashes on the Santa Cruz Beach boardwalk Pier. Only those who held him most dear stood along side me, as we watched his ashes scatter into the wind. They floated upon the waves for a few seconds, then gently sank into his final resting place, within the depths of the Pacific Ocean. As the words to Celine Dion song: Fly were read. No other words were necessary.
A somber good bye, from a chosen few, to a wonderful Son and Friend. Although over three hundred people signed the quest book at his funeral, many of them were there to only judge again. Intensively they were analyzing me unjustly, it was like watching them looking for a teat on an ant.
The date thus marked on the first birthday after his body ceased to exist, I vowed to my heart that this Birthday so close to Christmas, would not be forgotten as long as I live. I shall cling to my memories of how I labored to bring him into the world. I fell deeply in love with him the first time I held him in my arms and gently kissed his soft newborn head.
The twenty third day of December became my crutch. It only seemed like a twig at first, here I am in 2013, seventeen years later and it is now a mighty oak that keeps me upright. I finally made it through October without being heavily medicated these last two years, usually sedated in a semiconscious coma. Unless you have ever had PTSD flash backs, you can not began to imagine the real need to agree to allow a Physician to prescribe strong, anti-anxiety medications. It took a while to get clean of my prescription Drug habit.
I came to the conclusion a few years ago, that I do not care how I am judged. Love me with the utmost compassion, and respect or I will leave you.
Today is my Birthday and I am too old to care to count the years. I am going to spend the day, celebrating with only my Son. I am planning a trip. In Twelve days I will be on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, staying at the same lodge I shared with my son on Christmas 1992. The huge picture windows in the front of our room, over looked the Rim of the canyon. Although this time it is only about a three hour drive, back then it took about twelve hours. I really have no intentions of staying the night, however, at my age and with my disabilities, the trip is going to be grueling, so I will need to be flat on my back for a couple of hours.
Before I check in, I will find the exact spot I first shared a glance of the magnificent view, with my son so many years ago. When I have rested, I will go back the Rim and shout at the top of my lungs. Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas Michael Manning. I will love you eternally.
I won’t care who thinks I am crazy. I won’t care who judges me harshly. I know this because it is how I feel right this moment. I care very little about anyone around me. I focus on taking care of myself physically and emotionally. If that means, showing no emotions out side my own nirvana, so be it.
On the way back home, I will drop our favorite Oldies into the cassette player and reminisce about the many trips we took together just him and me. Which is why I started a U-Tube playlist. I have not listened to music in a very long time.
I have earned my own way, since I became a single Mother in 1980. I depended on many who let me down, but I pushed forward for those who depended on me. I paid my dues and earned my own way. I have been a home owner a dozen times since then, some shared and some not. This time it is the latter, for the exception of my little dogs and the closely held spirit of my Michael. We still have a lot of celebrating to do.
FYI: I am no longer a prescription Drug Addict (Xanax and Opiates). I receive regular (monthly) counseling, with professionals who do not judge me, but encourage me to stay the course. I have my Angel on my shoulder and together; “We are Sailing home again, I am flying to be near you to be free.” “In my heart you’ll always remain, Forever Young.” Rod Stewart.
Thank you all for another good year.