ciroccoj | Crappy day continues to be crappy.

Still missing wallet, long day at court, too many horrifying videos of Japan, and my mom's birthday.

My mom would've been 67 today. I so wish she'd been around to see Daniel and Justin grow up. She would've gotten such a kick out of watching them.

It's not fair. So many people who would be wonderful parents and grandparents can't have kids, or die too young to really be there for their children/grandchildren, and so many people who really couldn't care less have dozens of 'em and don't bother to even see them.

In between her first and second bouts of cancer, when we thought she'd beaten it for good, my mom once said, "When I was sick I realized that one of the things I would miss the most was watching Justin grow up. And then I asked myself, Why Justin so much, and not Daniel? And I realized that's because I've already seen Daniel grow up." And she nodded in my direction.

Daniel's my Mini-Me, in looks and personality; to this day, I can hear her laughing at me whenever he's being particularly spacey. But Justin is Chris' Mini-Me, and that would've been new to her. Not that she thought watching Daniel wouldn't be fun; it's just that Justin was an unknown quantity, and she was curious.

She wanted to see what happened. She wanted to be there for both of them, and be involved in their lives. She wanted them to play at her house even if they disturbed her perfect order and decor, she wanted to cook for them even if they were picky and messy, to teach them stuff, tell them stories, tell her colleagues about funny things they'd done, be proud of their accomplishments, and sympathize with their setbacks and troubles.

I wish she'd been able to have all of that. I know she wouldn't have taken it for granted.

As for what we lost... I so wish my kids had grown up with somebody other than me to speak Spanish to on a regular basis. I wish they'd been able to hear stories about me growing up, to show them that yeah, Mama was a bit of a flake too, and a picky eater to boot, so don't let her get too mad at you. As it is, almost all knowledge of my childhood that I don't know about is lost, as I didn't grow up with siblings, and my dad often lived far away.

I wish she'd been able to be there when we were tearing our hair out, to give us parental wisdom or just to remind us that This Too Shall Pass.

I wish she'd been able to see the boys develop so well through taekwon-do, really learning the tenets of "courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self control, indomitable spirit," through and through.

I wish she'd seen them do home schooling, because she was initially doubtful about us doing that. I think she would've loved what we did - the art projects, the courses with other home schooling kids, the experiments, the dissected frogs in our fridge, all of it.

I wish she'd seen them go back into school, and excel academically.

I wish she was here to congratulate Daniel on getting into IB, and shake her head bemusedly at him starting his own D & D group at school.

I wish she could be here to support Justin as he dealt with the mean kids at his school, and assure him that being overweight, too loud, and interested in learning do not make him a worthless person. I wish she was here to see that although all of it bothers him, it hasn't made him feel bad about himself, because he's got resilience and a pretty well-developed sense of his own self-worth.

I wish she were here.

I wish people who have grandchildren could see that what they've got is a precious gift that shouldn't be squandered. As it is, I hear about a friend whose parents didn't come visit their first grandchild for three months even though they lived in the same city, and it makes me want to punch them. Grandparents who tell their son to ditch his bitch of a wife and the brats she whelped (three separate sets of grandparents, in fact) and it makes me want to shake them silly. Grandparents who favour one grandchild waaay over another, obviously and heartbreakingly, and it's sickening. Grandparents who don't give a damn about grandchildren of the wrong gender (eg, one called his grand-daughters "blank shots", but doted on his grandson), and arg, I can't even.

And OK, that's enough whinging for now. What with what's going on in the rest of the world today, perhaps it might be a good time to remind myself that at least my mom got to meet the boys, and thoroughly enjoyed her seven years as a grandma. And that the boys have fond memories of her, and still have other wonderful grandparents, even if they don't get to see them very often. And that none of that should be taken for granted either.