אמא

I feel like a hypocrite. I have times where I have to give one of my kids advice on losing someone. When they ask the clichéd question about whether it ever gets easier, I lie through my teeth and say, “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

My least favourite day of the year is coming up on Friday. There are two reasons I hate the 8 of July. First is because I used to be a twin and this coming Friday is my birthday. Second is that my mother died on my birthday.

It doesn’t get easier. At least, I’m not sure it has yet and it’s been almost twenty years. Sometimes I say my older sister is like a mother to me. Not necessarily my mother though.

My mother was eccentric at times and completely grounded at others. She taught me French and English, how to bandage someone after an explosion so they wouldn’t die of blood loss immediately. She would recite poems from memory, most in English and French, a few in Hebrew. My mother was happy to receive a drawing that wasn’t coloured correctly. Houses could be purple and people could be blue. It was the thought that counted.

She made sure that my brother and I were all right. She told us that we still counted to her even though we didn’t to our stepfather. We were the best thing that ever happened to her. We were the children she got out of love rather than force. I didn’t understand that then.

Ezra and I had mother’s maiden name. Some days I debate dropping it from my legal name, but I have a hard time letting go. The days surrounding my birthday are spent either avoiding patients and their families or drinking myself to an uneasy sleep at home. I can’t see patients because I am jealous of those who have their mothers. I can’t watch mothers console their children or joke with them or share stories. It makes me feel like I am the biggest shit in the world because I am jealous of sick and dying children.

My mother died of Huntington’s disease. I have the mutation for Huntington’s. My birthday is even less fun than it always was. I will be in mourning for my mother on Friday as I have been for nearly twenty years. Please excuse my moodiness in advance.

Listening to: "Ghad Gadya" by Chava Alberstein (Ima's favourite song)