I just wanted to pop in real quick and write about my birthday yesterday.
I survived it. Honestly, I ended up feeling loved and extremely grateful, although I was also so heartbroken.
I kept expecting my phone to ring and then hearing my mom on the other end, singing happy birthday to me like she always did every year. It lasted the entire day, up until it struck midnight.
I knew it wasn’t going to happen, but the mind loves to fuck around with itself, doesn’t it?
There were birthday wishes on Facebook from family and friends. My cousin said that she’s taking me to see The Fab Four, a Beatles tribute band, on August 31st. I’m looking forward to that!
My daughter left me gifts of the chocolate kind around the house to discover.
My boyfriend and his mom picked me up and we went to visit his uncle to play Rummy. His cousin was there, so that was also a nice surprise. I really enjoyed their company and spending the day with them.
Steven bought me a personalized cake to celebrate turning the big 45.
After we left, Steven treated us to a birthday dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. I don’t recall seeing him ask the waiter, but suddenly a slew of waitstaff came out and put this heavy hat on my head (sombrero?) and then sang to me.
I got to talk to my aunt on the phone for about an hour once I got home. That was really nice.
Steven and so many others made a much dreaded day very lovely. I’m so grateful and blessed. I know that my mom was smiling down and like my cousin told me, when the birds sang in the trees yesterday, that was mom’s way of letting me know that she was there.
Today is the 33rd anniversary of my father’s passing. It doesn’t matter how many years ago it was, I still miss my daddy.
This pain isn’t as fresh, but I’ll never truly get over it.
But really, I don’t think that I ever want to get over it.
Because that’s what love is all about, as painful as it is.