I am out of town all week for work. Luckily, my cell phone works and I have been able to talk to Mom twice today. This morning she seemed fine until she starting talking about my Dad. She was crying and it broke my heart.
Tomorrow would have been his 89th birthday, so Mom is having a hard time. She told me that Dad used to tell her about the day he was born every year. He was born in a snowstorm on January 27, 1920 in Orting, Washington. She wasn't sure, but she thought the midwife had probably come to the house. My Dad's birth was a happy event especially during this huge snowstorm. His father had just come back from World War I, so it was a very happy moment for Dad's parents.
As Mom related the story it dawned on me that this was a continuation of a tradition she and I have celebrated for many years on my birthday. She tells me about the day I was born. I have to say, that I hung up the phone crying...missing Dad so much. I still have Mom and she is still telling me stories...and I am grateful for every one of them.
Tomorrow I will call Mom as soon as I get done with work. She wants my brother to bring over cake and ice cream for Dad's birthday. I have no idea if he will do that for her. I hope so...because that one simple act would make her day. I wish I could be there with her tomorrow...just to make it a little easier. I will do my best on the phone.
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