Another Bittersweet Memory
I am in the heavy planning stages for my daughter’s second birthday party. If you have read my blog before, you know birthday parties are a big deal in this house. Mainly the reason is because I did not have them when I was a child. I had two birthday parties in my life (that I remember). And for one of those, my name was spelt wrong on my cake.
But this story is not about me, it is about my grandmother. It is amazing how much we affect other people and don’t realize it. As you can tell, because I only had two birthday parties in my life, they were not important to my family. I wasn’t particularly sad my mother didn’t give me birthday parties until I was older, simply because I didn’t know any better. I had never had one and had not been invited to any (or if I had, my mother did not take me to them). In any case, once I was older, I realized people should have their birthdays celebrated to show how special they are to those who love them. I started baking a cake for my grandmother every year on her birthday. It was a small gesture and nothing fancy but I wanted her to have something. After the second or third year of doing it, I didn’t plan it that year. I was really busy in college and with work (I worked my own way through college) and didn’t have much time, and besides, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal since no one in my family ever had birthday parties. That evening when I went to visit her, she started crying. I only saw my grandmother cry a handful of times in her life and the disappointment on her face was evident when she realized I hadn’t planned to make a cake for her. She said she had looked forward to it all day. God did I feel like an ass. I didn’t realize it had become so important to her. I did make a cake for her the next day, but it’s just wasn’t the same. Sometimes we really hurt people even when we don’t intend to.
And in lighter news…
Look at this beautiful pie I made! Yumm!