Today I turn 43. While I no longer make a big deal about my birthdays and don't expect anyone else to, I still like to mark the occasion with at least a cake and a few cards. But this birthday is different. Not outwardly perhaps, but in my head.
My mum died when she was 43. It's not something I talk about much. I was nineteen at the time, and I'm not going to dwell over the impact it had on me. But since I first approached the landmark of 40, turning my life on its head as it came, the memory has been preying on my mind. I don't expect to mysteriously keel over on the day, but I can't forget.
Mum was ill for several years beforehand, and I've not experienced anything that I foresee as potentially fatal. Well, except for some freaky symptoms back in the autumn of 2012 that turned out to be chronic, long term anaemia. I have no reason to believe that my family is under any kind of curse that would compel me to die. I intend to live forever, bwahahaaa! Lol. But just for once, I will be looking forward to being another year older next year when I turn 44. In fact, I have a thing for the number 4, so 44 will be a very pleasing age to be.
And perhaps it's partly why approaching 40 made me realize it was finally time to do those things I really wanted to do, because none of us know how long we have on this planet. So even though I've been anxious about being 43, I've looked back over the last few years, at what I've done and what I hope still to do, and I'm happy. I've achieved things I never imagined in the last few years. But I'm not prepared to quite give up the whole breathing and moving around thing yet. :P Here's to being another year older!
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