My mother, whose birthday is Friday, has informed me on several occasions in the last couple of months that she is not having a birthday this year; neither will she be having any more birthdays, ever. I suppose this is just typical of women of a certain age in our youth-worshipping culture, but I have to say, it really annoys me.
My mother was born exactly 1 year and 3 days before A, which means he also has a birthday coming up. But he will never be 59, like he should be this year. He will forever be 55 years and 4 months old. And that's why I'm annoyed: Because there are people who truly are not having any more birthdays. And it's not because they're vain about their age, or squeamish about admitting the number. It's because they're dead.
It's because they're fucking dead.
I recognize that I obviously have issues about this, but I kind of want to shake my mom. Shake her right out of her bullshit vanity and her petty self-pity about getting older, because she should appreciate every additional birthday given to her. Not everyone is so lucky. As of Friday, she will have received 5 more years of experiences than A got. I joke with her when she gripes about it that getting old sure beats the alternative. But only the tone of my voice is joking; I'm serious.
Serious as a heart attack.
I mean, seriously, none of us grows younger. It's not even an option, so you're much better off considering only the realistic options. And when it comes to birthdays, you have a choice of getting older, or dying. Would she rather be dead?