“It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to!”
No, just kidding. But seriously. Today is my birthday … “Fifty-ONE-Derful” years old! Indeed, I am “FIFTY-ONE-DERFUL”! With that, I want to share something special that happened in my cosmos in the last 24 hours, and as I’m writing this, I’ve got “Butterfly Kisses” playing in the background, and yes, I’m in tears …
It’s probably not much of a surprise to anyone that I either was, or wasn’t, depending on which moment you’d have asked, looking forward to celebrating myself this year. Although technically this is my second birthday without him, given the fact that at this time last year I was just 27 days post “YOU KNOW” and still being severely medicated to actual physical numbness, I am actually considering this to be my first true “birthday without him”.
Happy birthday, me! You’re now a WIDOW!
Truth being told, as I’ve powered down the road no one ever wants to walk and risen so far above all these ashes, there came a point this year when I was determined to CELEBRATE “Fifty-ONE-Derful” in an obnoxiously spectacular way! I’d even gone so far as to ASK for someone to throw me a party, which was so unlike me that there really are no words … except to say that if you know me at all, you know that I don’t like to celebrate my own birthday. In my mind, however, I more than deserved an obnoxious celebration, especially given the fact that my my big “FIVE-0” last year was anything but golden! Instead of standing before The Lion Of Lucerne during what was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime he had planned and paid for one full year in advance, I spent the vast majority of that day laying in bed alone just staring at the urn on my nightstand.
But you see, if there was just one thing you should know about my husband, it was that both of our birthdays, mine and Gia’s, were all but national holidays in our home. Not a year went by in the ten years we had him “healthy” that he didn’t pour every ounce of his heart, soul and whatever resources he had at to make sure that “his girls” were celebrated emphatically for all that we meant to his existence. Keep in mind that until he had “us”, no one really celebrated him on his birthday, and that, my friends, is one of the most painful, tragic truths that still haunts me to this day. That “thing” that gave birth to him didn’t even remember the day he was born.
Keep in mind that I am very much aware that under the circumstances, “birthdays” this year must have stunk for everyone … not just me. COVID-19 crashed all of our parties and celebrations. I was still a little bummed, though, if not downright sorry for myself as I was sulking in my room yesterday just staring at his urn:
Zack would NEVER have let this happen! Two years ago today, he whisked me away to Paris. Some birthday butterfly I am. The days of being celebrated are GONE!
Then, I closed my eyes and fell asleep praying to God that I could just zap myself back to two years ago yesterday. THEN IT HAPPENED! It was the birthday gift I never saw coming or knew I was gonna need! In the midst of my nap, in the darkened room with my husband’s ashes beside me, the angel I call daughter had quietly found her way to the side of my bed, adjusted my blanket, then leaned over to gently kiss my forehead.
As I’ve said so many times before, there are so many parts of our parts of this journey we are on that no one will ever truly understand. So many delicate conversations that we have yet to have, and maybe we never will. Things she knows. Things I know. Things we both just have to be okay “knowing” may never be spoken about at all. The complications with Zack’s insanity have forced us to have to nurture some of each other’s wounds quietly, so, her checking on me yesterday the way that she did was the most precious “unspoken” nurturing of all. She didn’t and still doesn’t know that I was aware of what she did, but it happened nonetheless.
And just like that, my former worry that I’d never be celebrated again hit the floor in the best way possible … kinda like my heart did when she gifted me with exactly what I needed at exactly the perfect time! Perhaps the greatest irony here is that even as I’m writing this, she, too, is a little disappointed in herself because she wasn’t able to do anything special for my birthday. Gia, I’m not sure when you’ll finally begin reading this “love letter” I’m writing to you and your brother, but when that day comes, please know THAT I KNOW exactly what you did yesterday when you thought I was asleep! You did do something special for me, if not one of the most special things of my last “Fifty-One-Derful” years. I love you, Mona Lisa, and I see you.
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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