Birthday is not a happy occasion since mom’s death

Dear Annie: I am approaching my 72nd birthday. I am an only child. My dad died in 1995. My mother was nearly 97 when she died in 2004.

Ever since my mom died, I have become very despondent as my birthday approached.

The day of my birthday could not go by quickly enough.

My wife and my two adult sons walk on eggshells on my birthday. They want to celebrate the day with me, and I want no part of it. I tell them that I would be glad to celebrate the occasion but not until after the actual date has gone by.

I was hoping as the years passed since my mom passed away that time would heal.

Unfortunately, it has not.

Any suggestions?

Dreading the Day

Dear Dreading:

I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but happy birthday. If you want to celebrate your birthday on a different date, then, by all means, go for it. There’s no harm in doing so. In fact, I think it’s a smart compromise: It gives your wife and kids a chance to celebrate you, without causing you undue anxiety.

I’d also encourage you to consider seeing a counselor who specializes in grief. Losing a parent is life-altering no matter how or when it happens. The loss of the last parent, in particular, saddles us with not just the devastation of grief but also the disturbing fact of our own mortality. It sounds as though the death of your mom stirred up some feelings in you that never settled. A therapist could help you.

Dear Annie: This is in response to “Put Out,” who was dismayed that her son had invited her ex-husband to live in the apartment that they share: If Brad still does not budge on getting his father (and “Put Out’s” exhusband) to leave the house they share after all the other avenues you mentioned are exhausted, then I say “fight fire with fire” and invite Brad’s ex-wife to move in with you. Even the mention of this to Brad could probably get the desired effects that “Put Out” is hoping for!

Give It a Try Dear Give It a Try: I think that would get the job done, too.

Dear Annie: Today, I’m thinking of my parents’ anniversary date, April 3, 1937. What a happy day that must have been for them. I look back and wonder what their plans and dreams were. My mom was just 22, and my dad was 26. The record said that he was a farmer and my mom was “at home.”

They are now gone. All of their brothers and sisters are gone. All of their children are gone, too, except for me. After I go, there will be no one left to remember, and April 3 will be just another day. It reminds me of an old empty house you see on a country road; once filled with happiness and laughter, hopes and dreams, but now waiting for the bulldozer. Perhaps heaven is a place where we get to relive our happiest moments. How can such powerful memories just evaporate with time?

Nearing the End Dear Nearing: I wish I had an answer befitting such a big question. All I can offer are a few meager words. Your loved ones existed and they mattered, and nothing can ever take away those simple facts. Though they might be gone from this earth, the love they gave is still very much here.

Send your questions for Annie Lane to dearannie@creators. com. To find out more about Annie Lane and read features by other Creators Syndicate columnists and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.