We had a party to celebrate, my sister Sherri’s birthday, last night. Great food, awesome friends, good wine and some Karaoke time.
Today is Mom’s birthday. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t physically here for the party. A mom, is a mom, is a mom. Mine was a bit unique, and I am – odd. As Sherri says, I have no desire to be – even. Our mom is/was awesome, and her story, and my dad’s, is still too cool for words. Which is why, I’m still spreading the joy.
Mercury has turned direct, the moon is in its Cheshire stage, (Alice in Wonderland), The Superbowl is about to be played and Groundhogs day, on its way. These cycles, annual events, are such a thrill! Soul energy – celebrating. Cellular memory- adding another layer. And a dad, is a dad, is a dad.
I’ll get out of whatever dimension I go to – sometimes – as a writer…
Mom’s birthday dinner was Spaghetti with mini meatballs. Big meatballs are odd to me. We always had pie for Mom’s birthday dessert, usually apple, sometime it was lemon meringue. This is the dinner menu we had on Feb 1st, 2006 after Mom entered heaven/went home/joined the angels/passed over – how many other ways are there to say – she died! It’s was the most dignified passing the nursing home staff had ever seen.
That first family dinner to celebrate Mom’s new soul journey, on her birthday, happened by surprise. A phone call from my oldest daughter early in the day saying, “It’s Grandma’s birthday, we should do something.” A few more phone calls, and a few hours later, my family was there, eating Grandma’s meal of choice. Then for dessert, we had both types of pie!
I love thinking about our soul journey, that it’s never ending, not limited to being human. I like the possibility of reincarnation as a choice, when we have a greater connection and understanding, within the limitless Love of God. I’m confident that if Mom really wants to learn to swim, God would say – sure! You want a new human experience, go for it.
Mom’s energy is often felt in my home and life as I look at her photo, the pictures she painted, and remember the foods she enjoyed. I see my mom’s reflection in my daughters sometimes. I hold my grandson and know how Mom savored the feel of a baby against her cheek. I’ll have to watch the event of Puxatawny Phil tomorrow, because Mom always did.