I was born in May 1977 and my Mom August 1947. Anytime I would say we were 30 years apart, my mom would correct me and say she was 29 when she had me. Which was technically true; she was 29 years and 9 months when I was born. 😉
For all practical purposes though, we were 30 years apart. She graduated High School in 1965 and I graduated in 1995. Whenever I had a birthday, I knew Mom would be turning the “same” number as me + 30. So I was 15, she was turning 45. I was 30, she was 60, etc. It was always easy to remember and our birthdays were always “linked” in that way. (Plus, the way the days fell, our birthdays were always on the same day of the week. When she got a new calendar each year, she’d flip to May and see what day mine was on and know hers would be the same.)
This year, when my birthday came around, it was really painful (for so many reasons) but the fact I was moving onto another year knowing she wasn’t going to follow me hurt deeply. I was turning 46 and she was never going to be 76.
And here we are, three months later, and we’re coming on her birthday. But, she’s not here to celebrate it. And we’re never going to be the “same” age again. I’m going to keep growing older and our link will drift further and further apart.
I know this is such a weirdly arbitrary thing and that it doesn’t really make a lot of logical sense, but it’s just this connection we had that hurts to lose.
