I turned 43 on Wednesday the 14th – I share a birthday with some illustrious folk, including Dwight D. Eisenhower, Katherine Mansfield, Winnie the Pooh, and Susan of A life in books.
I passed a pleasant, low-key day: a roofer was here in the morning to finish replacing our bathroom roof; I took a long walk out to the edge of the countryside; I read from a few books I was enjoying, including a couple birthday-appropriate ones; we went out to dinner at our favourite restaurant, which serves seasonal English tapas; there were some tipples; and back at home I opened my gifts (books plus a book token to buy more, a gin Advent calendar, vermouth, and chocolate marzipan) and had a slice of the chocolate caramel cheesecake my husband made for me from Hummingbird Bakery’s Cake Days cookbook.
I planned to put up an album on Facebook the next day with a wry quote from Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad about My Neck (“According to my dermatologist, the neck starts to go at forty-three, and that’s that”) and the Munch’s-Scream emoji. I was mildly vexed with my husband for taking a photo of me that shows the silver coming in at my hairline and wasn’t sure if I’d include that one. I had it all planned out, clever me.
Then I woke up to a message from my dad saying my sweet cousin Dawn had died some hours ago – the middle of the night our time, but 8:30 p.m. their time, so still my birthday. I can’t pretend we were close: she was part of my dad’s Georgia clan but relocated to Oklahoma 30 years ago, and I don’t think I’d seen her in the flesh in nearly 35 years. We kept in touch at a Christmas card sort of level over the years.
I can’t say it was a huge shock, either: she came home on hospice, bedbound with incurable lung disease, in late September. But we’d done a video chat with her earlier in the month and she seemed so well and optimistic that we – even my sister, a hospice nurse who’s seen this play out many times – thought we were looking at months, not days. Then she got pneumonia again, on top of her existing issues, and it was just too much for her body to take. She was 54.
This instantly put things into perspective for me. I’m so glad we reconnected, though we should have done more, and sooner. It was beautiful to see photos of her with her mother and brothers, who visited her for several days and left not knowing it was two days before the end. Right to her last she was thinking of others and making connections; she even wrote me birthday wishes, which made her loss seem all the more surreal.
Now, on each birthday, I’ll remember my cousin and the family she left behind. It feels right, something to be philosophical about rather than resent. A reminder that life is fragile and bittersweet, and something I must always strive to be grateful for.
From my current earworm, Denison Witmer’s “Confessions”:
“Nothing seems as random as the gift of life, and I hope I’m not wasting mine.”
Bookish Beck = Rebecca Foster. American transplant to England. Freelance proofreader and book reviewer.
Happy birthday, and I am so sorry for your loss, Rebecca. (Both/and!) When someone near to your age, even if you aren’t close to them, passes away, it definitely puts things in perspective. Fall always makes me melancholy and think about times passing and family who have passed away. You are right, we should try to remember how fleeting it all is and use that to enjoy the little (and big) things.
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Belated birthday greetings, Rebecca. How nice to be counted as illustrious, definitely a first for me! We’re currently travelling and enjoyed what counted as my birthday cake in an Austrian konditorei this afternoon. I’m so sorry about your cousin. Never easy news even when it’s expected.
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Happy birthday, and sounds like lovely celebrations. So sorry about your loss – we definitely need to grab each day and get the most out of it. x
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Happy birthday nachträglich, as the Germans say. And yes, the death of people we know, especially when it’s not at a very advanced age, makes us pause and consider life much more of a precious gift.
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Happy birthday, Rebecca – and that photo of you is beautiful, never think otherwise. I’m so sorry to hear of Dawn’s death, but how wonderful to know that you’ll be able to remember her as kind, thoughtful, and beloved.
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Happy belated birthday Beck. The birthday cheesecake looked wonderful.
I’m sorry for your loss, too.
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My condolences, Beck. We don’t have to be close to feel a loss. I’ve learned a lovely expression from Jewish friends of mine: May her memory be a blessing.
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I’m sorry to hear about your cousin. It sounds like you had a really nice day otherwise. The cheesecake looks delicious.
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Happy birthday Beck, but also my condolences on your cousin. 54 is so young.
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Happy birthday, Rebecca. I’m sorry your cousin died so young. It seems she was thinking of others right to the end. We never know when our final day will come, so skip the small stuff and petty dramas and spend time caring for one another instead.
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Belatd birthday greetings, you young thing, you! But I’m sorry the day was clouded by the loss of your cousin. Because of the day, she’ll be in your memory now every year at this time, I guess.
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Hi Rebecca
We wish you a happy birthday 🎂 and lots and lots of books 📚 worth reading.
The Fab Four of Cley
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
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[…] copy of The Parent Trap in the Little Free Library a few days ago and spotted that the twins share my birthday! Of course, I could have reviewed it for German Literature Month and Novellas in November, as I did […]
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