A little over seven years ago, I lost my mom to pancreatic cancer. But had she won her battle with that horrible disease, she would’ve been sixty years old today.
I’m not sure how my mom would’ve taken it. I mean, she never showed that age was more than a number to her. At least that’s how she raised me. But I do know when she hit fifty, she wasn’t exactlly pleased with the number.
I don’t know if that was because it reflected on how long she had been on earth; how people have a preconceived notion of what you should be doing at a certain age; or how much less time she had to complete all the things she wanted to do with her life.
I’d like to think she’d have conquered some more things off her bucket list. Maybe she’d have taken that trip to India – one which I still hope to take for her, with her ashes in tow.
Maybe she would’ve rediscovered her inner artist and be selling her artwork again.
Maybe she’d be living in her van on some beach somewhere, enjoying a laid back lifestyle. She always loved the ocean.
I’d like to think she’d still be dancing to the beat of her own drum, something she always encouraged me to do for myself.
Unfortunately that was often a catalyst for our huge arguments, but it also led me to following a lot of paths in my life that conventional inside the box thinking would’ve had me passing by.
But the truth of the matter is unfortunately, she was taken from us before we could find out.
However, it doesn’t stop me from missing her. And it doesn’t stop me from wondering.
So Happy 60th Birthday, mom! I’m tipping one in your honor today.