Happy Birthday to Me.

Today I turned 34 years old. As a person with an almost-christmas-birthday its always been a sort of big deal to pay special attention to it, to separate it out from other holiday festivities. Growing up, my parents always held big parties for me and made sure the day was special, despite the "merry christmas birthday" cards or two-in-one gifts from aunts and uncles. My husband did this too- he always had a a pile of beautifully wrapped little gifts for me, each one thoughtful and special. The entire day was a celebration, from start to finish.

Going into this birthday without him was a little scary. I didnt know if I would be angry or sad. I didnt know if anyone would remember. I didnt know if I would get through the day easily or be miserable-as it turns out Ive been hovering somewhere in the middle.

When Rick first died I thought the entire world would stop, even if just for a minute. That everything should stand still because this amazing, beautiful, loving person wasnt in the world anymore. How could people not feel his absence? How could they just keep going about their daily activities? On a day like today, Im experiencing a sort of similar feeling- I want to shout at my friends, "How do you not feel this? How do you not sense how empty today feels?". Clearly its not their responsibility, and they certainly didnt forget. I got early morning text messages and beautiful flowers from my sister in law. Still, somehow, it feels...well, like something is missing.

There was no birthday cake today, but if I had a candle (or 34) to blow out, Id wish impossible things- to wake up in a place where Rick was present and healthy, to not celebrate my birthday without him, and for him to have more birthdays of his own to celebrate.