Happy Birthday, Mom

Wendy and I have organized a birthday party for my mom with about 20 people coming--neighbors and some family. Yesterday, we went to Mom's favorite Japanese place in honor of her real birthday (May 30) and we had a very nice time. She's been there so much in recent weeks--Jeff and Debby, Lynnea and Walter, and I took here there on our last visits--that the staff is starting to recognize her. When we told them it was her 75th birthday yesterday, she got several hugs from people there and a card signed by everyone. The only downside was that I got a little broken up over missing Dad so much and wishing he could be there to see her on her birthday. Joe, the piano player, saw me in the restroom and offered some comfort--apparently Mom and/or Wendy told him about Dad dying. Maybe I'm supposed to be embarassed by weeping in public, but I'm not.

This morning I woke up to a strange partial memory of Wendy and I coming to this plot with Dad before it was built, but I couldn't remember the context of the memory--or even if it was true. Wendy said this morning that it was true, that we came out and stayed on Pammy's pull-out couch and Mom and Dad where staying upstairs, probably to finish up the home-buying decisions. How could I have fogotten something that happened only four years ago?