I am older than my mother.

Today, I am the exact age my mother was when she died.  I calculated this on September 29, 2010, the day I turned 32, and have been dreading this day ever since.  It upsets me in so many ways, I am not sure I will be able to put it in words.  At least, not in coherent, interesting words.  Especially not at midnight, but I am going to try.

I always thought of my mother as... old.  But I am now the same age she was when she died, and I am not old!  Now I understand what all those adults said when she died-- "She was so young!"  She really WAS so young.  She had only graduated college 11 years earlier.  Her oldest child was only nine.  She had only been married for 11 years.  She probably didn't even really know what she wanted to do when she grew up.  And if SHE could die, then so could I.  I have already made it on this Earth longer than she did.

As I watched this day approach, I found myself continually and compulsively putting myself in my mother's place, and trying to imagine what it was like for her.  I have so much that I look forward to in my life, and I imagine that my mother was looking forward to many of the same things: watching my kids grow into adults, seeing what they decide to do with their lives, spending more time with my husband once the kids are older, meeting my grandchildren.  What was it like for her when she got sick and knew she might not have those things to look forward to anymore?  How did she even survive the four months of her illness with the fear that she might leave us all so early?  How did I not know the fear, anger and sadness she must have been feeling at that time?  I was just so convinced everything was going to be okay...

Sydney is only one year younger than I was when my mother died (which makes her the same age as my sister was), Ivy is almost exactly the same age as my other sister, and Isadora is only months younger than my brother was.  On this day, I cannot help but think about, with a little bit too much authenticity, what would happen to my family if I died.  Would Sydney start having panic attacks and spend hundreds of hours in therapy?  Would Ivy be unable to recall two-thirds of her childhood?  Would Isadora remember ANYTHING about me at all?  Would Bryce remarry and be so uncomfortable talking about me my kids are afraid to say my name?  It is physically painful to imagine what would become of my family, and therefore my memory, if I die when my kids are young.

As difficult as it is for me to envision this fictional future for myself, this was my mother's reality.  The word "unfair" does not even begin to describe her situation.  We may miss her daily, but she is just gone.  She gave my siblings and I life, and then she was gone.  While we were all robbed of her company, she was robbed of so much more.  Now, almost 23 years after her death, I feel closer to my mother than I ever have before.  I know what her deepest, darkest fears were, and I am unnerved at how REAL they feel for me.

Despite all of my fears about this day, and the depressing thoughts I have been unable to stop, I have been surprised at how positive I remained for most of the day.  Why on earth was I so damn happy this afternoon?  Denial?  Delerium?  Too much coffee?  This evening, I realized that this process has brought me is a sense of GRATITIDE, and that makes me happy.  I am just so freaking thankful not only to still be alive, but to have a fun, close, healthy family, and a generally awesome life.  Anything that I ever get all worked up about these days is NOTHING compared to what my mother, and many other people, had to deal with. 

So today, in honor of my mother, Elizabeth Ann Orbach Cadien, I am happy.  I am grateful to her for giving me life, a family, and a solid beginning.  I am thankful that I got to spend any time with her at all, and I hope there is some of her left inside me.  I hereby designate today The First Day of the Rest of my Life.

 

Comments

[Christie]

Thanks for sharing your story. Very powerful.

[Mical Atz Brenzel]

Hello. I think you are Ruth, Liz's eldest daughter. Liz was my best friend in my senior year of high school (Schreiber HS in Port Washington, NY). That was the year her mother became terminally ill with cancer (ovarian, I think) and she passed away that summer. I only saw just now on a list of deceased high school classmates that Liz was on the list, and through a web search I found your story. My goodness, how history sadly repeated itself. I am so sad to hear your story, but I am encouraged to read that you have your own beautiful family and that you look so much like the Liz I remember.