Happy Birthday, my Love

“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”
Mitch Albom


I was better today, but tomorrow I begin another downward spiral. Tuesday, September 25 is his birthday. He would have been 57 years old. I find myself wondering if I should say, he is 57 today, or he would have been 57 today. Do the numbers even matter where he is? Do they even matter here anymore? The important thing is that it is his birthday, his special day, but he is not here to celebrate. Certain dates are difficult, but anniversaries are almost unbearable, especially birthdays. You wonder what he is doing, is he comfortable, is he happy…things like that. Most of all, you feel as though you are in a creek sinking deeper and deeper until you are nearly submerged in cold water. You begin to gasp for air because the water is threatening to fill your lungs and then from nowhere, a sound escapes. You realize it is your own scream and you can only cry silently. Silent cries are the worst because your body shakes uncontrollably and sound cannot escape. The hot tears feel as if they are burning your flesh, but you cannot stop them. They never really stop, do they?

I am already listing instructions for that day. That is how I will function without looking like a lunatic. I keep reminding myself how emotions make others uneasy.

  1. Get out of bed.
  2. Get in the shower.
  3. Dry hair.
  4. Get dressed.
  5. Drive to work.
  6. Concentrate on work.
  7. Lock up shop and drive home.
  8. Take care of da’ schnauzer.
  9. Eat something.
  10. Fall apart.

Notice it is only at the end of the day that I give myself permission to fall apart. I hope I do not hear a “Happy Birthday” song. That will ruin my intentions of making everyone else comfortable. I hope I do not hear music at all. Music speaks to the heart. My heart does not feel like listening, especially on that day.

I want to make his favorite, banana pudding, but I have not yet reached a point in which I can do it. Just thinking about it makes me fall apart. He loved banana pudding. I wonder if he can eat banana pudding where he is now. Do they even have bananas there? Do they even eat there? No, I do not think I will be making banana pudding this year. Maybe I will make it for his next birthday. Maybe I can hug him with my eyes wide open on his next birthday. Maybe…just maybe. Happy birthday, my darling, happy birthday to you.

©2012 Relinda R.





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