It’s been eight of your birthdays I’ve had to celebrate without you. But yes, your impact was bigger than you thought, and yes, it’s still very much felt.
Yes, I still quietly admire you and the advice you gave that made a difference for us all. The support and love you showed me continue to shape my days, weeks, and months. They continue to shape my life.
Yes, your input and opinions still make me think twice … if not three times, and then four.
No, you weren’t insignificant, and never shall you be forgotten. Your existence here, no matter how brief, and despite the evil insanity that took you in the end made a positive difference, though you didn’t live to see it.
I’m sorry that THING that birthed then threw you away as well as all your “siblings” bore a hole so deep in your soul that you felt as though you deserved to die in it.
Few are the men I could honestly say are or were truly good men. My paternal Grandfather and his namesake, my cousin Ernie (better known to me and all as “The General“), top the list of the fewer than two handfuls I’ve kept in that category for years:
His father, Ernie, was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. He was loving and kind, caring and thoughtful, and all about his family. The man was a saint by even the harshest standards, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a single shortcoming in his character. In the 18 years I knew him, I never once heard him raise his voice or a fist, and never once heard him speak an unkind word about another. Which is not to say that he never ever said them; it’s just that if he did, he never let his impressionable grandchildren see it. To this day I smile when I remember the “worst word” I ever heard him say: “Garl darnit!” This was his version of profanity, and it took a fair amount of anger or frustration to get him there. My Grandpa was the polar opposite of any man I’d ever known until the day I met my late husband, but I’ll get to that much later. Suffice it to say, my beautiful Grandpa was and remains one of the brightest stars that has led my pathway from the sky. His legacy is one of love and kindness, and the memories he left are unsoiled in my mind. Of course, he was but a mortal man, and with that, it’s certain that like all of us, he’d had his moments, grievances, “grudges,” and maybe even “yelling, screaming and profanity.” As any good man and father should have, however, he was wise enough to shield the younger eyes that were watching and ears that were listening from anything less than impeccable words. Little did I know that he’d set the bar by which I’d judge all men impossibly high, and that it would be years before I understood why.
Meanwhile … CUE the arrival of my “number Five” kid, the young man who’s captured my daughter’s heart and made it to the very top of my list. For reasons I can’t really say, it became clear to me fairly early in their relationship that he … is … THE ONE FOR HER! [SEE ALSO :: “The Day Of The Lululemon Zippy Jacket” … a story that shall remain between Abd, my daughter, and me.]
And so, with that, I would like to wish my “Number Five” child (in order of appearance in my atmosphere) a very Happy 23rd Birthday today! Abdil-Rhaman, there are no words to express how thankful I am that you showed up for our girl at the precipice of her either “falling backwards” into the abyss of all she’d been prior to “August 31, 2023” or “pushing forward” into every beautiful thing life has in store for not just her, but me as well because of YOU. I love you, kiddo, and so would have my Grandpa! Though you’ve yet to meet The General, when that day comes, I know he’ll love you, too. With that, and in keeping with the tribute my cousin made to my Grandpa years ago, here’s my tribute to you:
A REMARKABLE MAN, MY NUMBER FIVE: As a teenager, he left behind all he knew about life back in Jordan to seek the promise of the USA. He had only his determination, integrity, and a pocket full of dreams to lean on when that plane touched American soil, but that was more than enough upon which to build a future for not just himself, but his family, which thankfully now includes not just my daughter, but all of us! Because of his example, his values and his love, I’ll get to witness my daughter living out a fairy tale that most girls will never truly know! The attached photo is of what I wish could have really happened … that is … his having gotten to hang out with my beloved Grandfather and one of my favorite humans, my cousinErnie!
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. 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, depending on which moment you’d have asked, I either was or wasn’t looking forward to celebrating myself this year. Although technically this is my second birthday without him, 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!
As I’ve powered down this 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 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 lying 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 and soul—and whatever resources he had—into making 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:
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, and then leaned over to gently kiss my forehead.
As I’ve said so many times before, there are so many 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 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.
