today is my mom's birthday. she would be 51. normally i dont tell people personal information like that because it is holy to me, but i decided to let it loose on the web because i want everyone to celebrate my mom's birthday, because it is a special day. a day for dancing and loving and smiling and feeling like your chest is going to burst because life is hard but it is also incredibly full of beauty, and sacred and precious. i decided this morning that this beautiful day would be a celebration. a celebration of life and love and wings and bluebirds and beating hearts that are so real and holy and all the beautiful things my mom taught me. i have done a lot of crying, and a lot of loud singing to arcade fire and beastie boys and the now 27 cd, and more crying. on a sidenote, i would like my funeral to be a group singalong to wake up by arcade fire. and now that that is published on the worldwideweb you must all fulfill my wishes when im through or else my ghost will come back to haunt you when im gone.
i know some of you probably think i am crazy for calling this day a celebration. but it is a celebration. it is a celebration because i had (and have) the best mom ever. she taught me and millions of other people in this cold and lonely world about their inner possibility. she believed in people. she believed in me. she loved children, and they loved her. she served with all of her heart. she was selfless. she was everyone's best friend. she suffered horrific cancer and cancer treatment twice with dignity, grace and incredible compassion. the only time i ever heard anything that could slightly resemble complaining come from her mouth (even through terrible pain and the deterioration of her body) was the time we were late to the doctor and we were in the car and my dad didnt turn when he had a chance and the sh word slipped out of her mouth. she was on a lot of drugs at the time that were messing with her mind, and she cant be held responsible. but it sure made me laugh, and love her even more.
my mom was many wonderful things, funny and beautiful and fun and remarkably intelligent, but more than anything she embodied charity. one time when she was in terrible, excruciating pain as her life ended, down to less than 80 pounds and unable to eat or drink, she started to scream from the unbearable nature of the disease overtaking her body. the hospice nurse nor anyone else could calm her down. i was there for every moment of my mom's slow spiral toward death, but this moment was too much for me. i began to cry, unable to control the pain i felt at my mom's physical suffering. she opened her eyes, put her hand on mine, and in slurred and drugged speech told me, "its okay shanny." even in the midst of her own horrific suffering, suffering i cannot imagine, she was more concerned about me than herself. in the worst moment of her life, she was looking outward. she was the very definition of charity, a tumor-filled cancer patient with a heart that could not be conquered by drugs and pain and disease. that was the last conversation i ever had with my mom, and the one that has defined my life from this moment forward. she was released from her life on earth because she had figured out the secret of living, that true, real joy is found in loving others.
because of that today is a celebration my friends, because even from the ugliness of cancer and disease and death can spring lovely, wonderful things like charity and hope and life. because even though thinking about my mom hurts my heart, it makes me want to be better and more like her and more like God. it is a celebration of healthy bodies, of toes and eyes and hearts and the ability to jump and move and eat without pain, because for the last seven months of her life she did not have that, and it is a precious, precious gift. it is a celebration of possibilities, the infinite possibility within each person and the hope that we can all see that possibility within one another. it is a celebration because my mom taught me, at the tender age of 19, the secret of living, of really, truly, completely living, even if you are dying from terminal cancer. the secret to happiness, come what may. that conversation will forever remain etched on the landscape of my mind, a reminder that cancer is no match for charity, and that compassion lives on forever, and is a force much bigger and greater than we could ever imagine. for that i am profoundly grateful, and for that i sing and dance and eat candy and celebrate. and for that i choose, this day and every day from now on, to try to remember to live, to really, truly live, as my mom did, no matter what may happen or how many melanoma tumors choose to enter my body.
so dont worry about me today. celebrate life and living and charity. eat some candy. say hi to your neighbor. do something youre scared of. stop thinking about yourself. listen to someone. do them a favor. buy them some pop rocks. lend someone your now 27 cd. give someone your favorite coat or shoes or whatever, because its good for the soul. look for their possibility. believe in them and their potential for greatness. im going to try to do this today, because everytime i get down and miss her so infinitely much and want her here to hug me and listen to me and make everything better, i try to do something nice for someone else. and thats when she comes, teaching me how to live, the touch of her soft hand and the sound of her soft voice whispering, "its okay shanny."
