Happy Birthday

Of Note;

All I can do is pour my love into all of my endeavors; all I can do is express my emotion. But rest assured, it is not merely on your birthdays that I remember.

It was on her birthdays that he remembered. The rest of the year he would forget, he much preferred forgetting. It was not that Thomas did not want to remember her; it was just a difficult task. If he remembered her, he would be forced to remember the way things used to be. To follow that process every day of his life would destroy him. That is why, very early on, that Thomas set aside her birthdays for remembrance. To be honest, Thomas did not even know why he remembered her anymore; it just became a sort of habit. The rest of his family never spoke a word about her; some were too young, others too old. In youth one does not have a memory, in age one can choose against it. Thomas, though, did not choose to take the easy way out by simply forgetting. Thomas remembered, one day a year, on her birthday.

Taking care of his family was a harder task than Thomas had anticipated. Before she had passed, Thomas’s mother had birthed six children, including Thomas, her other credits being Susan, carol, Henry, Norman, and Vincent. Thomas, being the oldest, had taken on their responsibilities after her leave. While technically their father, Martin, was the caretaker, he did not act it. Martin was once a good father, was once a loving husband, and was once a hero to Thomas. Those times had long since passed. Martin was now a stranger. He was a stranger to his family and a stranger to himself. This did not bother Thomas; he had accepted it long ago. Acceptance can be a very difficult venture and something, after committed to, one never wants to find themselves second guessing. Remembering her was always rough on his acceptance, yet another reason he did not like to do it.

Thomas’s siblings were lied to. When the passing occurred, besides Thomas, Vincent was the oldest. Vincent was five years old. Thomas was nine. Thomas knew what had happened, Thomas had waited until she had gone. With curious eyes, Vincent had asked Thomas what had happened upon his return that day. Thomas could give no answer. So Martin lied. Martin told Vincent she had to leave, that maybe she would be back someday, but most likely not. Martin could think of no better solution than to lie. For this Thomas never forgave Martin. Why Thomas never revealed the truth, he was not sure. His siblings had all forgotten their mother, her being a vague ghost of the past now. To them she could have been a sitter, a nurse, or even just a wonderful dream. The only one who Thomas suspected of remembering was Vincent, for it was on her birthdays that Vincent too could be seen shedding silent tears.

It was her birthday. It was his time to pay his respects, to allow himself to go to a place he did not approve of going to. As always he got a glass of milk, which relaxed him, and his book. Sitting in her chair he began to remember. He began to remember her eyes, her beautiful smile, and her flowing hair. He recalled his adoration for her, his absolute dependence on her. Then there was that day at the zoo, not a month after Vincent was born. He could not see over the crowd, so his father lifted him onto his shoulders. There was the day he got into a fight. Thomas had been attacked. It had not been his fault. Terrified, he went home from school, thinking his mother was going to punish him. Instead he was met with care and warm feelings, not to mention possibly the biggest hug he had ever received.

He remembered when he was not obligated to care for his family, when he had friends. The summer he spent playing baseball everyday. That week he went camping with his close acquaintances and his father had taught them all how to fish. Thomas could still remember the absolute admiration he had for his father.

Then, he remembered Susan. She was a surprise, but they would love her just as much as the others. Being her sixth child, Thomas’s mother was used to the whole episode, but this time was different somehow. Thomas knew something was wrong from the start. When the doctors said that Susan was going to be arriving prematurely, Thomas could remember comforting his mother. They were very close, Thomas was very much like her and she always talked to Thomas as if he were an adult, not just some nine-year-old kid. He remembered waiting outside for hours. He recalled a flashing light and many more doctors than were necessary. Thomas flashed back on running into the room, remembered the blood and his father’s tears. Finally, Thomas remembered his last glimpse of her.

Before he was taken away, he grabbed her hand. Looking into her eyes, he knew that there was little time left. “I’ll take care of them,” he screeched, “I promise, I’ll always take care of them.” Thomas could have swarm he saw her give a final nod in faint recognition.

Susan was born never knowing her mother. Thomas remembered wanting to hate Susan, wanting to blame her for everything. Thomas also recalled his promise forbidding that hatred, which, due to that same promise, was eventually forgotten. It was not long after that life settled, and the events passed.

Then, Thomas opened his eyes. He was in the present, it was her birthday, and it was five years later. Quickly Thomas looked around to make sure no one had been watching, and then he took a towel and slowly dried his eyes. When he was absolutely sure that the coast was clear, he opened his book. Inside were pictures of him and his mother. He had assembled it right after her death, searching through every closet and every last album for his compellation. So much had changed since that day. Thomas received very little from sifting through his past; he had managed to stop caring long ago. His tears would form without him even realizing, and he harbored nothing but resentment for them. The tears were a mockery of all of his accomplishments, a stab into the heart of his acceptance. Deep down, though, Thomas loved her. Thomas loved her more than he could say or see. That is why he kept his promise. That is why he still remembers. That is why he drinks milk and takes out his book, every year, on her birthday.

A guy