Musings of a Midlife Mama and Other Stories

Today is my dad’s birthday.  He’s seventy-one.

Yesterday we celebrated his, my daughter’s, my nieces’, and my brother’s girlfriend and her son’s birthdays.  There was good food, a beautiful sunny day, and Costco cake with real delicious icing that isn’t real but so yummy.  There were laughs about the first dentist my mom took us to who had horrible breath.  Danielle, my niece, got up in front of all seventeen of us and did a Shakespeare monologue for a tryout at her school.  Jack and three of my nieces played tag all over our backyard.  All you could hear was laughing and “You’re it” for an hour.

Yesterday I went to a funeral.

Gary was my daughter’s best friend’s dad.  Eleven years ago Gary was rushed to the ER with a heart problem.

“You have congestive heart failure,” the ER doctor said.  “And you have two years.”  The doc thought he was being generous with his timeline.

Thanks to that doctor and others and Gary’s will to see his daughters’, Deanna and Monica, graduate from high school, Gary proved him wrong and lived another nine years past the prognosis.

Yesterday at the funeral, I took in the Episcopalian church and remembered the last time I’d been at this church.  Ten years ago I’d attended a funeral of my boss’ husband.

I didn’t know Gary.  I saw him once.  For eleven years since he’d been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, he stayed close to home.  I suppose he found comfort there as he ticked off the days.  I wish I would have known him but I suppose I do because Deanna looks just like him and both of Gary’s girls have his sense of humor.

Yesterday I celebrated five birthdays, a tenth, thirteenth, forty-second, twenty-second and seventy-first.  That morning, before the funeral and then the birthday party, I went to the store to buy a card for my dad.  I picked up one that said something like “You’re getting closer to the day when you get to find out if there’s a heaven or if you’ll rot away in a box.” When you opened the card, it said, “Good luck with that.”  I laughed and held on to the card thinking how wonderful it would be if I had a sense of humor about death.  If I had faith…but I don’t.  Instead I bought a card that said, “I love you” on the front.  Inside it read, “As much as a fat kid loves cake.  Happy Birthday!”  Now that’s funny and something I could relate to.

I loved “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” I can count on my fingers the movies I’ve watched more than once, “Four Weddings” is one of them.  It’s funny, romantic and has one of the most wonderful poignant funerals I’ve ever been to…I mean seen.

I realized something at Gary’s funeral.  Over the last three years I’ve gone to more funerals than weddings.  There was a time in my twenties and thirties I went to so many weddings I could barely afford it.  Then as I got into my thirties, I started going to baby showers.  Now in my forties I’m going to funerals.

I know it’s the circle of life. I know life is more precious because of death but I liked the good ol’ days when I didn’t have a thing to wear to a wedding or when I hadn’t lost my baby fat from my own pregnancy to attend a friend’s baby shower.   I long for the day when I will start to go to more weddings than funerals, more baby showers than wakes.  I know this day is coming.  These celebrations won’t be for me, but for my daughters and their friends, for my son one day.  And though this is bittersweet, I’ll take it.  I’ll take it.

Tell me what you think of the “circle of life.”  Do you have a sense of humor about it?  Maybe you can’t stand weddings let me hear all about it.