A lot of people discuss the first birthday after a loved one has died. How all the emotions will come rushing back. How you will feel sick. How you will wish they were there. How it feels empty and disgusting. And, it is true. So true. The first birthday sucks, because you are gone. Immortalized at the age you died at, never going forward. Stagnant.
No one ever talks about the second birthday. It sucks too. Pretty bad. But, the pain is less. There is glimmer of happiness. You inwardly smile about their favorite things to do on their birthday, and you don't sob at the thought of them not celebrating.
I was seventeen years old when my Dad died. Since then I have had people tell me to be more respectable, act more like an adult, respect my elders, get a job, etc. But, no one ever steps back to realize the devastation that washed over me at seventeen. I had to grow up. Fast. I was always more mature than people my age, but it got even worse when Dad died.
Dad never really liked birthdays, and always told us to spend the money on ourselves. But, I like cake so we would have one. He would say once you get to my age you don't really care anymore, and it is true. Dad also told us to bury him in a pine box, (haha,) but we couldn't. So, he sits on our mantle. I'm glad he's there. I mean, he isn't there at all, but he is. The first birthday he had after he died, we were sad. It was bad. Even though Dad didn't like to celebrate, we still did when he was alive. His last birthday he had he couldn't walk, and had just gotten out of the hospital for pneumonia. But, no one cares to remember but us. Which is fine. The world doesn't stop turning for anyone. We are not special. We are a statistic.
His second birthday after he died was a little bit better. Time heals all wounds, but I don't find it to be true. They don't ever heal, you just start to live with the pain. You don't complain about the hurt, you live with it. His second birthday was undoubtedly better than the first. I hate to say it, but it is true. I laugh about the stuff he would get mad over, and I can finally look at pictures without an outward wince.
The second birthday is better. If you're reading this and you just lost someone. It does not get better. It gets easier.
But, to the people who haven't lost someone, or to the people who were blessed enough to have their parents see their children, etc. Be nicer. If you were an adult with a family when your parent died, you cannot compare to the feeling that I had, or that my little sister experienced. We are not the same. We will never be the same.
So, here's to you, Dad. Happy Birthday.
