Today is my birthday, and it feels very different from any of the previous ones I’ve had in my 63 years of life. It’s the first birthday since my mother passed away on Christmas Eve, just 11 days ago. My younger sister also passed away just over a year ago, and back then, I wrote about how my mindfulness practice helped me cope with grief. Today, however, I won’t delve into grief. Instead, I feel a sense of relief and gratitude that my mother didn’t suffer longer, as her final days were particularly tough due to breathing difficulties.
In the past, birthdays were about celebrating another year I had lived. But now, I’m more focused on the “birth” part of birthday. Today marks the anniversary of when my mother gave birth to me, making it more about her than me. She carried me for over nine months, nurturing me from a single cell to a baby. Her body was my initial source of life.
I feel like a part of her still lives within me, continuing her existence even though she is no longer here. My life is an extension of hers. As I mentioned in my book, “Living as a River,” parts of our mothers often live on within us. Cells from our mothers can be found in areas like the pancreases of diabetics, where they help produce insulin, and in damaged heart tissues, where they attempt repairs. My mother may still be within me, helping keep me healthy, although some autoimmune diseases are reactions to these maternal cells.
My mind and brain were deeply shaped by my mother. My first experience of love was her love. Studies such as Harry Harlow’s experiments with baby monkeys show how crucial maternal love is to our development. The absence of it can destroy children, but the presence of such love helps us grow into connected, empathetic beings. This was one of the many gifts my mother gave me.
Much of the language I use to communicate comes from my mother. I am passing on that gift every time I use words to connect with others. Additionally, many of my character traits come from her, not through conscious imitation but through unconscious imprinting. These traits, both positive and negative, mean that my life continues to reflect hers.
Character traits are inherited, much like the presence of maternal cells in our bodies. While not all traits are positive, my goal is to enhance the good ones and eliminate the bad ones, thus passing on the best of my mother to the world—not just through my children, but in all my interactions with others.
My mother died on Christmas Eve, and since then, I’ve gone through one Christmas, New Year, and now a birthday without her. Although grief is present and may resurface during future celebrations, the love and gratitude I feel for her will remain forever.