The 14th was my b-mom's 90th birthday. And I forgot it.
She is in good hands, but I have been visiting her very infrequently.
For quite awhile my interactions with her have left me feeling exhausted and angry.
On the day of her b-day I awoke in a bad mood, which got progressively worse as the day wore on. I did not think of her once that day. I did not think of the date. I wondered why I was so angry, but I did not connect the dots until the next day. And then it hit me.
Then I began to feel guilty- like the dutiful child I was raised to be.
I fought back all urges to call, write, or visit her, since all of these feelings were and are fear-based.
Maybe that sounds cruel, and maybe it is. But I figure it like this: It is better to interact just ONCE with someone out of genuine Love, than it is to be at their side for a thousand years out of mere duty.
I have always believed that my B-Mom knows far more about my entrance into this world than she is letting on. It has been my life long fantasy that one day she would call me to her side and tell me the real story.
But this is not to be. The dying of a dream can be a terrible thing.