Mamma Mia and My Mama (36)

July 20th
I thought of my mom, yesterday, as Joyce and I were driving past a field of horses in Monroe. Joyce called out to the horses to say hello. Mommy used to do that and she got very upset if there was a single horse on a field. Everyone should have a friend, she would say. Joyce made me remember that. When I looked down at my phone, It struck me by surprise that it was the 19th. Mommy's birthday. After our trip to Columbus Flea Market, I sat down at the computer to write in Penzu, a bit later in the day than I like, and ended up spending the afternoon writing this blurb about my mom in Facebook.

Yesterday was my mom's birthday. July 19th. She would have been 91 years old, but she missed out on the last 34 years of a life she should have had. I miss her, not always on the anniversary of her birthday, but at strange moments, like when a butterfly flits by, when my kids could really have used the love of a grandma, when a clock reads three of the same digits (that's a weird one, but I think of her every time), when the stars are especially bright in the sky, when I watch anything on the food network (which wasn't even a channel 34 years ago and oh how she would have loved it), or I when watched Downton Abbey on my iPad (a show so similar to Upstairs Downstairs that it screamed out her name with every episode. And she would have gotten a kick out of having an iPad too.) Mommy loved to type on her electric typewriter. It was such a fun toy for her. Imagine my apple keyboard under her fast hands with Google bringing all kinds of answers to her very inquisitive mind? My Instant Pot or my Vitamix? Ahhhhh! Never mind that she did not get to meet Zach, Sam, or Katie, or see Adam or Becca grow up. She would have loved being a great-grandmother. Mommy would have enjoyed the last 34 years of this world. I pray to her all the time for guidance and with love. I hope she knows that. Happy Birthday, Mom, wherever you are. I love you.

I am not a Facebook enthusiast or a Facebook addict, but retirement is turning me into one. Like Norman does every day, I spent the rest of the day checking my post for comments, replying to comments, and seeing who liked what I wrote. Interestingly enough, not many FB friends knew my mother. I had a few, like Ricky, Barbara, and Jader who had a true connection to Mommy. Many friends thought she was just a beautiful lady in a carefully chosen photo (that would have mattered a great deal to her), and most commented on liking how I wrote what I wrote.

The world knows I am an artist. If I don't tell them or paint for them, Norman tells them. Norman and Pat are my biggest fans. So I here I am chasing a dream of being an artist. Secretly, though, I want to chase after my writing bunny. Getting compliments on my writing, bringing my mom to life through my words for over 50 people who do not know her but will "Like" her on FB, made me feel amazing and very creative. I was a proud writer who got noticed for writing on my mom's birthday. She liked to write too. I hope she would have been proud of me.

Last night, I went to the movies with Katie. Mamma Mia, a mother-daughter film if there ever was one. The movie started off one year after the death of Meryl Streep's character. I did not know that going in. The flashbacks were a bit confusing as the story brings us back to 1979, the year Meryl's character graduated college (same as me), and entertains us with how she met her three suitors and Sophie's dads. I am never that concerned with how brilliant or deep a story goes. For my $10 senior movie price, I just want to be entertained. I danced in my seat to ABBA music the entire time, so happy be sitting with my daughter. By the time Cher enters the Dolby screen and tries to wow the audience, I was so caught up in the coincidence of Sophie not having her mom for the birth of her baby, just like what happened to me, that I paid little attention to the stiff and strange looking Cher with white hair. The actual Meryl makes an appearance at the end through the eyes of her daughter. Meryl, beautiful but with my mom's not so perfect nose, reminded me again of my mom. I was bawling. I missed my mom on her birthday. Katie was trying to console me as I am sure she was putting herself in the position of Sophie and could not imagine not having me there when her time comes to be a mom. It was all too much.

The New York Times gave Mamma Mia a harsh review. It is not the kind of movie that gets a notice from critics or Oscar nods. But this film touched me on a special day like no other could. With my faulty memory, I will always remember this birthday for my mom and will keep her alive and close to my heart for many days. We should all get to celebrate birthdays through a Dolby cinema presentation. Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.