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My mother had a Zoom birthday party today, in two parts: part 1 for her friends in the UK, and part 2 for family in North America. That included some family by choice, Frieda who my mother has known since she was ten and first came to New York, and Norbert who was a friend of her parents from a year or two earlier than that, in France before and during the war, and who thought of them as being like parents to him.
I think everyone had a good time, although someone asked Mom to say a bit about her sisters (both of whom died in the last year) and she was noticeably sad. Mom asked everyone to say something, however long or short they felt like; at least one person left it at "Happy birthday." I said something about being happy to see her and her apartment, where I visited her in late 2019, because it brought back those memories and because it was reassuring, seeing that she looks well.
There was a bit of "so that's what this person looks like" along with "so that's what she looks like now." I think I'd seen a photos of my brother's girlfriend before, but if I'd seen a picture of my cousin Carole's son it was a baby picture, proudly displayed by my grandparents. Carole's hair is still red, though not the flame-orange it was when we were in our twenties; Anne and I have both inherited Grandma's white hair.
Mom's upstairs neighbor, Jackie, who is her quarantine pod, was there, and brought in a cake, with candles.
I think everyone had a good time, although someone asked Mom to say a bit about her sisters (both of whom died in the last year) and she was noticeably sad. Mom asked everyone to say something, however long or short they felt like; at least one person left it at "Happy birthday." I said something about being happy to see her and her apartment, where I visited her in late 2019, because it brought back those memories and because it was reassuring, seeing that she looks well.
There was a bit of "so that's what this person looks like" along with "so that's what she looks like now." I think I'd seen a photos of my brother's girlfriend before, but if I'd seen a picture of my cousin Carole's son it was a baby picture, proudly displayed by my grandparents. Carole's hair is still red, though not the flame-orange it was when we were in our twenties; Anne and I have both inherited Grandma's white hair.
Mom's upstairs neighbor, Jackie, who is her quarantine pod, was there, and brought in a cake, with candles.
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