This is August 29th to Me

My brother, Mother and I circa 1980.

Today an insane day at work. Crazy. Nuts. Unlike any I've really experienced before. There was chaos. There was organization. There was drama. And of course, there was media there to capture it all.

However, in the middle of all that, I still had a moment this afternoon when I noted the time, my place in the world and had the one thought that comes over me every year on August 29th:

This is the day that my mother died.

Each year the day seems to sneak up on me more than the last. It isn't marked in red on the calendar and dreaded for weeks as it once was. But it still has some power, this day. After 13 years, it still is enough to make me pause and reflect, even if it's just for a moment in a hectic day or for a blog post at the end of it.

I miss my mom. This is not unique to anyone who has lost their mom. Or any parent, family, friend or loved one who meant a lot to them. I know this.

But I think back to 13 years ago. Not on this day, but on one of the many good days before it that we talked. I don't think either of us had any clue that I would end up in Los Angeles, having the time of my life, with the love of my life. But I know that she'd be happy for me.

And on this day or any day, I know that's enough.

I'm Not a Fan of the end of August

Apologies to all of those with birthdays in late August. And if your wedding is, was or will be scheduled for late August, you'll excuse me for celebrating a little less joyously. For me, late August sucks.

Not just me, but also some of my friends. You see I've lost a lot of good people in my life and it always seems to happen in August. My grandfather passed away 15 years ago earlier this week, my friend's mom passed away around this time, and my own mom passed away 12 years ago today.

The good news is that while I get irritated and a little irritable on this day, I'm not crying in the fetal position like I used to. The older I get the less rare it is, sadly, to have a parent who's passed away too early. And I wonder if the year that I turn 42, it will feel different. That's the year when I will have lived longer without my mom than with her. It seems weird to think about. It also seems weird to think that I've known my stepfather longer than my mom did. By a lot. I've been in the man she married's life longer than she was. And I'm exceptionally thankful for it. There are many gifts she's given me and that is definitely one.

So today I just put my head down and muddled through like every Wednesday. But I knew and I know that this day hurts less this year than last and more than next. But this week, I'm wishing for the weekend for more than just leisure. I'm ready for September!