Sigh. We all grieve in different ways. We all feel it differently. For many of us we agree that there is no right or wrong way. Many of us navigate the waters of grief the best way we can. We also try to help others do so in their own way. Different days and different occasions affect people in different ways. Many people get emotional on the birthday of the loved ones that have died. I understand that because a birthday represents another year that the person WOULD HAVE been alive. It represents a passage of time when memories could have been created. Also the DATE of the death is a heavy one. I feel that even if I think I am going ok emotionally around the date of death, my body responds in its own way. The day I really get sad is on MY birthday. Today is my birthday and it is the first birthday where I am not getting a daughter card. You know, one of those mushy cards where a parent tells you how you are the greatest, bestest, light of their life. It is sad.
Last week, the 12th, marked a year since the last day I saw my dad alive. It was to be only two months until I visited him again, but . . . . .
So, today, I’m a little sad. There is a message on my answering machine (yes, we still have one of those) that I have played a few times. It is my dad wishing me happy birthday last year. I don’t know where I was that I wasn’t able to answer the phone. I think I called him back and talked to him . . .but it might have been the next day.
For me MY birthday is more poignant than her (my mom’s) birthday (I don’t know about my dad’s I haven’t experienced that yet). My parents were always so great in remembering my birthday and making me feel special. I am sad I don’t have that treat anymore. I often think back and marvel at how my mom had a job yet was always able to pull off an awesome party. Granted – kids parties back then were TOTALLY different than now. A house full of girls over for a slumber party was all I needed. But that is still a lot of work, but there didn’t need to be a photo booth or fancy favors for everyone. But homemade dinner and breakfast the next day was always on the schedule. They were great, my parents, for doing all that.
Yesterday we were at a wedding and the father-daughter dance was sweet. It reminded me of my dad when we danced at my wedding. My husband and I danced a lot back then (Country Western; two-step, West Coast Swing, Waltz, and Cha-cha) so my dad said he was really nervous. We were just stepping and sway and he kept saying, “Do you want me to do something? Should I spin you? Do you want me to dip you? Is this ok?” It was cute. He made me laugh. Last night’s father-daughter dance made me teary-eyed.
Not to say I am not having a happy birthday, it is just sad, no card, no call this year. And, not ever again.
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