How do you celebrate someone no longer here? No longer to wish, no longer to tease, no longer to hear their cough while they to talk, no longer to see, hold, hug, to make smile. No longer. Each birthday now a cruel reminder that they are not here. What do you do with that information? I recently heard a Ted talk that really did hit home. We don’t move on from grief, we move forward with it. We don’t the person like a moment gone, but part of you as someone who contributed to your life.
Yet the pain remains, and perhaps boring to the ones who don’t feel the same, but the talk says the biggest thing people say is that they can’t imagine, but the truth is, if they truly wish to make an impact, they should. They should try to imagine the loss because we will all die, and how we treat the living when near and dear ones go is how they will be treated when they have a loss.
This isn’t about right or wrong, it’s about compassion, kindness, patience, and really, really digging in deep to see the ones close to us in pain who still smile, laugh, engage, but there is a sadness tinged to it. I am truly blessed to have so much time with my aunt and Dad, but the greedy me wants more. It aches for those lost times when they were down the street, and I chose to do something else. I now wonder if they ached to spend more time with me. If I deprived them love that they deserved. So many unanswered questions, and so I sit and reflect and the pain just feels overwhelming.
And yet I also fail to seek support, to let others know the emotional pain feels suffocating. Pride? Shame? Regret? I don’t know. But as I write these words, the burden feels an ounce lighter, and maybe, just perhaps it needed to said. Happy Birthday. I love you. And I miss you.
Just Maybe that is enough. Maybe.