Three years ago, my mother was 102 years old and about to pass. Her body had survived a terrible case of Covid but her mind did not. What she left behind was my mother in a different form, unrecognizable in spirit. When she left, it was a blessing. It was enough.

I told her on November 4: “Do not die on my birthday!” She waited a day and then checked out: It was finally time to go home.

At my recent, wonderful birthday dinner in a favorite restaurant, I invited my mother to come; I toasted her “wherever she was.”

At the end of the meal a slice of pink cake with a lit candle was handed to me: (I must have unconsciously chosen something pink as a two time cancer survivor, and hey, speaking of pink, look at the childhood photo I chose) The flame was triumphant and burned brightly. The cake sat before me and I was thinking about my wish: to be healthy. It was time to blow out the candle. My lungs were readied.

There was no breeze, no draft.

And at that moment, without my help, the flame died. Smoke rose from the wick. Just like that, just when I was about to send my wish out to the Universe. There was no explanation for the flame to suddenly go out just at that moment. But I do believe in my heart I know what happened.

This morning, FaceBook suggested a bunch of my photos to make a REEL, a short video post. The photos that the algorithm chose were current. But what stunned me was the music: Van Morrison’s, Days Like This. It was the song that I chose to dance to, with my son, at his wedding last year. It was a great, meaningful groove. It’s about mothers. And children.

I can’t not think about my mother when I hear this song. And I can’t not think about grooving with my son on the dance floor (no slow dancing here) at his wedding. And I can’t not think of the words and how my mother maintained the idea:

When everything falls into place like the flick of a switch
Well my mama told me there’ll be days like this. ~Van Morrison

I listen as a mother.
I listen like a child.

And, I choose to believe.
I hope mom was able to sneak in a taste of pink cake.

🎂 [If any of the readers here are also on Facebook, and left me a birthday message, I want to thank you again. I tried to respond personally to everyone. To Two hundred people. You kept me going through many tough times. I am ready to put a load behind me and carry on.

📌[For those of you who contributed to the American Cancer Society Fundraising, we raised more than $2,500. It was the first time in all my fundraising years that I became a “pacesetter.”]

Note, as old as I get in number, I still feel sixteen. But a whole lot wiser.