Another year older

I didn’t know what I would do. He liked to pretend he didn’t want a fuss but would grin in delight at presents in bed, a meal out with family, a special surprise. A time to remember the important things and indulge. I found it hard to choose the right gifts. Mainly because he would buy everything he wanted, but that wasn’t the point anyway. 

There was a strange anticipation of what people were telling me would be a difficult day. Why? What made this day any different? How could I possibly miss him more? Should I be doing something special? 

Daunted by the prospect I was grateful for others to take over. A family walk scheduled, the pressure relieved. A day of compassionate leave ready to fill, with what? Hopes of the future? Celebrating another year older? Too many questions, options, thoughts filling my head. I froze. 

“It’s daddy’s birthday tomorrow.” “Why didn’t you tell us?” Its not that I forgot, just that it was pressing so hard on my mind it hadn’t occurred to me they wouldn’t know. Should I buy them gifts instead? It’s too late now. We met a couple of weeks before his birthday. I asked the same question, “why didn’t you tell me!”

In the stillness of the morning, the darkness slowly lifting to the sound of the kettle, I made us breakfast in bed. Chocolate spread staining their grinning faces. I sit crosslegged imagining him there. We instinctively leave him space. A few people sent me cards. I miss him.

Pushing everything from my mind I set off in the car, the music too loud. There are times I think I should listen to ‘his’ music, music he likes but I don’t. He would listen to metal in the shower. I cried so hard, a pathetic attempt to feel close to him, on my knees naked in the bath while the clouds of steam filled the room. A strange sound rising from my chest. I don’t know how I stopped. 

I sit in a dark cinema, alone. It feels comfortable, I immerse myself in another world for that short time. Emerging back into the sunlight, blinking, another task overcome. We lived our cinema dates, it felt right. 

I think of the flowers sat on my table. A sudden realisation. This wasn’t my day, it belongs to another. A woman who 39 years ago brought this miracle of a man into the world, who felt a pain deep within her that was at once both agonising and beautiful. A woman who gazed into her babies eyes and, with that look of love, laid within him all her hopes and dreams. Promises only a mother can make in those incredible moments, as the realisation dawns that she has created life. She gave him this day. 

With the tea pot between us there is an unspoken understanding. We hold hands. I brought cake, but we share so much more.