Tuesday, March 20, 2007


My nephew, who turns one on the 27th of this month, got his haircut for the first time ever today. My sister, in following with someones (I don't know whose) tradition of not cutting the baby's hair until s/he turns one, didn't cut his hair until today. Even though her big sister (aka ME) pestered her incessantly about cutting his hair because the sides were incredibly long and he was starting to look like a girl.

Before they head out to the barber for his cut I call her and whine to her that i've changed my mind; she shouldn't cut his hair. That he won't look like a baby anymore. And she laughs at me while I get teary eyed at the thought of my sweet baby nephew no longer being a baby.

So, she gets home and sends me pictures and I cry. I was right, he doesn't look like a baby anymore. He looks like a little boy. (Well, isn't that what he is?) And that makes me feel sad...for the fact that he's growing up and moving closer to being one. His 1st birthday.

Moving us closer to another 1st. The 1st anniversary of my mother's death.
Save for the fact that his birth is so close to my mother's death...and that makes me sad...not that I have a wonderful, sweet, lovely nephew, but that its been almost 1 year since my mom died.

Someone told me, the other day, that she would feel better as the 1st year anniversary drew near, then she would closer to the 1st month anniversary. I can't wrap my mind around that. I think I would rather be closer to the 1st month anniversary. For me, that would mean that I have more recent clear memories of my mother. Memories of having spoken with her, of having visited with her. Memories of the sound of her voice. But being closer to the 1st year leaves me with more faded memories. And that makes me sad.

1 comment:

Rosie said...

SS, the memories whether fresh or faded are precious. I've found that mine come and go in waves. Sometimes I even smell my Mom. No not someone in the mall who smells like her, but here in my house she is so tangible sometimes I smell her perfume the way it smelled on her.

I think all the firsts are hardest.