Translation: A Very Happy Birthday with love from Pooh.
It’s hard to believe that it has been a full 3 years since I bid my husband farewell and toss him out to sea. That was on his would-be 50th Birthday so, today, he would have been 53 years old. Like with all the other milestones, I do my best to honor him while doing my best not to bring on sadness simply for sadness’ sake. The “feelings” tend to come regardless and, similar to the anniversary of his death, they have a tendency to peak before the milestone day rather than on the day itself.
For this, his 53rd Birthday, “feelings” of which I cannot exactly describe, began to hit both YaYa and me on the Birthday Eve. After he fell asleep in the car on the way home, I reclined my seat in the garage and checked out for a bit. It was actually 1 ½ hours before I finally got out of the car and that was only after a text message woke me up. Later that night, YaYa and I lit candles and quietly sang “Happy Birthday.” Then, I sipped on a glass of wine while YaYa curled up beside me in bed. The candles stayed lit until midnight when I was finally satisfied that they were being blown out ON his day rather than the night before. Like it really matters.