There have been multiple instances of my breath catching when I think of tomorrow and that there will be one birthday wish that I won’t get. I don’t want to birthday without that one wish. He may not have texted me or sent me FB messages or flat out wished me a happy birthday on every birthday for the last 20 years, but he was there for most of them. He bought me my first drink from a bar. He bought me flowers when he could manage it. He would wake me up with a kiss and a “happy birthday”. This year, I don’t get any of those. And navigating how to function without those things hurts. And I’m thrust back to the soul crushing grief because I want him here, corporeally.
But the shit thing, all these really excellent memories I have made in the last 8 weeks since he’s been gone …. I wouldn’t have those if he hadn’t died. The hysterical laughter at Crack and Tacos and J’anal. The heartfelt “Asshole” on repeat. The houseguest we have now… all of those things wouldn’t have happened.
It is just so unfair that I can’t have both. That I can’t have him here, in the flesh, and have the relationships with the kids that have developed because of the need for a bond because of his absence. It is fucking unfair. I want both. I want to have my birthday cake and eat it too. I want to banter with the kids and call him and tell him the funny thing I did to make someone blush. And have him laugh until he couldn’t breathe because that shit was funny.
But, instead, I have to navigate. I will focus on how awesome it is that I have our kids. I’ll whisper a thousand times that I miss you. I’ll close my eyes when I get close to tears, get goosebumps because you are near, and whisper “I love you.” And I hope that maybe … just maybe, you’ll visit me in my dreams tonight and give me an answer to a question, kiss me, and tell me Happy Birthday.