It’s his
birthday today. This is his third
birthday since he passed away. The first
one was only four months after he died.
It was a truly difficult day. The
second birthday date after his passing was another truly difficult day. This is the third birthday date. It is another truly difficult day.
Birthdays. Wonderful and joyous celebrations for
children and adolescents. Once a person
hits adulthood they are sometimes viewed as silly celebrations, by some. For
others they are merely unwanted and irritating reminders of aging. There are ampe bah-humbug Scrooges of birthday
parties. We all know some.
Happily, for
other gown ups, birthdays, whether it’s their 29th, 59th,
or 79th, are still an excuse to feel special for a day and celebrate
in whatever manner they desire.
That’s what
birthdays were for Mr J and I. We made
it that way. Many viewed us as being
weirdly childlike and nonsensical to insist on making sure we fussed over each
other on our birthdays. This did not
stop us looking forward to the annual occasions to use the dates as a jolly
good excuse to throw a little bit of extra affection and appreciation toward
the other. It made us happy. And gave us yet another excuse to once more wrap
our arms around each other and whisper how happy we were to have shared another
whole year together.
We never
thought or gave thought that it would end the way it did. Our birthday celebrations together were going
to be endless for us.
After all,
we consciously assumed that when the end did come it would come at the same
time for the both of us. We made out our
wills with the surety that our lives would end together. We did not prepare for one or the other to be
left without the other. It never entered
our minds. Until the diagnosis, of
course.
And so it is.
I do not,
or would not, expect others to fill the vacuum of emptiness, nor do I want them
to as sometimes those who try hard to make life easier and gentler for me
become a burden to my grief and with their good intentions they can exacerbate it
further.
But I
always, always, appreciate and feel nourished by their caring. Because of that I feel great gratitude. I am fortunate for the friends I have. They constantly reassure me of their value merely
by being good friends and often they fill the gaps that some family chooses to
ignore. The friends have certainly filled
a few gaps these past three years, most particularly through this one. On the date of Mr J’s passing, at my final
Ironman event, on our wedding anniversary and on my own birthday date. And today.
Today is his birthday. Today we
had a scone. One cherished friend remembered the date, literally. For it was the cherished friends who knew how
much Mr J loved his scones, most of all his date scones. Particularly the date scones which were purchased
fresh or especially handmade for him; for any occasion. It didn’t have to be his birthday. Just as well.
Otherwise we would have been celebrating date scone birthdays every
second week during his last years. He
was never short of someone blessing him with a date scone.
He was blessed with one this morning.
He’s such a
lucky fellow.
And, I guess, so am I. For there is always a smile to be had in sadness - tis I who smiled this morning. I got to eat Mr J's date scone.
It was lovely.
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