Well, I'm another day older.
Forty-seven years ago, but yesterday, my mother went into the hospital in labor. However, a helpful but misguided nurse gave her something to put her to sleep, thereby postponing my birth for over twelve hours. To the end, my mother would have to correct herself that I was not born the 2nd of December, because that's the day she went in.
Anyway, enough avoidance ... Basically, it's not a good day to think about her, especially about the distance there was between us at the end. Or rather, it's probably a good day to think about her, but I'm having a hard time with it. It's difficult to keep the emotions in check, and
I hate pretending. And I hate that I do it all the time.