Birthday Musings

Today is my sister's 44th birthday. She was born on December 17th, 1961. 5 weeks early, or something like that. I wasn't even 2 years old yet, so all I have are memories of the stories, not real memories of her birth, but she stayed in the hospital longer than my mother did, and when she came home, they wrapped her in a red blanket, and put a card on her that said "Merry Christmas, Mommy!".

Donna was a great sister. She taught me all the things sisters are supposed to teach you. You know - how to argue. How to fight. How to laugh. How to gang up on your brothers. Donna basically rocked. She grew into a troubled woman, but despite the violence of her marriage, and the turmoil of her emotional life, she was always a loving sister and friend to me, and a wonderful mother to her children. I miss her. I miss her everyday. Of course today, I miss her more.

She died on my 42nd birthday - February 25, 2002. We had shared dinner the night before, and in looking back, I could see her fading. It was as if she was becoming translucent, as if her colors were already moving to that other place - where ever that other place is.

As my 43rd birthday approached, I dreaded it. Not because I would turn 43, but because that was the day Donna died. How can you not mark that anniversary? How can the day not change? I dreaded it. I decided I wouldn't have a birthday any more. Again - aging didn't - and doesn't - bother me. But I could not imagine celebrating with cake and candles and and parties and presents on the day that my sister - the friend who'd shown up before I was 2 and who'd travelled life with me for 40 years - died. There was no way.

That's when my Dad stepped in. Well, he said, you can share my birthday, then. Because Dad was wise enough to know that birthdays are important enough to celebrate -- and knew enough of the law to know that any part of a day is a whole day. In the standard family legal canon, that extended itself to "any part of a year is a whole year". So it was justified, and for that year, at least, my birthday was officially moved from February 25th to December 12th, and 2 months and 13 days before my actual birthday, I turned 43.

That's what's special about my family - we can move birthdays if we want to.

Life, and death, goes on. Last year, on December 28, 2004, 16 days after his 75th birthday, my father's colors faded on into that other place, too. I know there was a grand, and colorful reunion, but it's been a hard year for us.

This year, on December 12, as I mourned the fact that my Dad wasn't here for me to share a birthday with, my mother quietly emailed me.

"By the way - Happy Birthday". That's another thing that makes my family special. We remember when birthdays get moved.