Thirty Four, Three Fourths, And A Baby

Thirty three - that year of my life is behind me.  I am glad to see it go because it brought so much pain and sadness.  Yet I am also sad to see it go because it was the last year of my life with Ron alive in it. 

I reflected back on last year’s birthday.  I reread the post Turning Double Tres and recalled how sad it was – his hospital bed and oxygen being delivered on that day, his hospice nurse sharing with me shortly after that I needed to take my leave from work as early as the next week because she did not think he had much longer to live.  My whole future with Ron was literally dying in front of my eyes and it broke my heart as I entered a new year of my life.

Naïvely, this year, I did not expect I would have as rough a time on my birthday as I did.  I have been doing so well, missing Ron, but reveling in the memories and feeling gratitude for him and for things that bring me joy in my life.  I was surprised when I woke up at 2am on my birthday and began bawling because he was not in bed with me.  Sobbing uncontrollably because it was the first year he was not there to wish me happy birthday.  I have had some fierce middle of the night insomnia all week.  Just stressed and overwhelmed with so many things in my life.  Plus facing another first without Ron, I was overcome again with my grief renewed.  Grief is a sneaky little bastard, creeping up on me just when I think I am recovered.  I know it can do that and this is to be expected.  I was just caught off guard.

There were some lovely moments on my birthday.  Of course cards and texts and phone calls and emails and Facebook well-wishers.  My coworkers brought in some sweet treats to share in staff meeting.  I had lunch with coworkers and mine was paid for.  Ron’s siblings and nephew sent me flowers with a balloon at work.  But I could not help crying, crying, crying, so many times throughout the day.  Everything seemed so sad.  No Ron.  No Ron.  No Ron.  My heart beat with that certain knowledge that he would not be at home to embrace me when I arrived.  He would not be there to tell me how glad he was that I was born.  Life is just different when you don’t have that one person who cares about you more than anyone else and thinks they could live or die based on your existence.  I confess that I miss it.  I confess that it feels a little bit like I don’t really matter.  Not in any big way or to anyone in particular.  I know that sounds immature and whiney  but trust me when I say it is just not the same.  I don’t matter to anyone the way I mattered to Ron or that he mattered to me.  Not having that just changes things.

I was distracted.  I drove home for work, which takes about 40 minutes in 5 o’clock traffic, and got all the way to the door before I realized I forgot my bag and house keys back in my cubicle.  I checked all the doors and windows for possible entrance to my house without luck before piling the dogs in the car and driving another hour and some change, round trip, to retrieve the bag and keys. 

I was late to roller derby practice and at one point had been considering just not going, since it really didn’t feel like it was my day.  But a derby sister talked me into showing up because we had plans to go out after to celebrate my birthday.  I was glad I went.  It was a really fun practice.  I wore striped tights with a new skort I got for myself as a birthday treat and Ron’s ‘Fuck Cancer’ shirt, both in honor of Ron’s nine month death anniversary, as well as for my teammate whose father has cancer.  After practice, we went out for drinks and food as the snow fell heavily outside.  I felt special that these new derby friends cared enough to come out and celebrate with me.  It was good to take my mind off from feeling sad.  For a little while, I felt happier.  I had an adventurous drive home in the snow, sliding everywhere, but not worried because it was midnight and there was no traffic.  I went to bed happy, knowing I had the following day off work.

But the day after I turned 34 was also the ¾ of a year anniversary of Ron’s death.  Nine months.  So, I again woke feeling sad and crying.  I was able to feel a bit better by reading all my Facebook birthday wishes and then shoveling out my driveway for an hour and a half in the sunshine, which was physically intensive and had me sweating buckets and full of endorphins.  From there, my day got crazy with errands, including starting the process for refinancing my house.  I have been feeling so stressed out lately, taking on way too much and trying to help everyone when sometimes I still need help myself.  I know that underlying all of my stress is the simple sadness of losing Ron.  The grief.  It sits there, in the passenger seat, taking up energy and depressing me.  As it should.  In fact, I welcome feeling it, I just wish I had more time to devote to the experience these days.  Instead, I am always on the run, going so fast, never settling down, without enough time even to take care of household chores (today marks three weeks since getting groceries or cleaning the bathroom and there are no signs I will get to either in the foreseeable future), let alone to feel what I am really feeling.   

I stopped at a friend’s for a birthday lunch and cupcakes.  I was glad she made them because it was the only birthday cake I had this year.  Thanks, Gretchen, for knowing I needed some candles to blow out and for singing to me. 

While at Gretchen’s, I learned my sister-in-law was admitted to the labor and delivery unit at Bronson because, a week past her due date, her blood pressure was a little high and the embryonic fluid was a little low.  So, I went to the hospital to see the parents-to-be and then to their house to get their dog, who I am now watching while they stay at the hospital. 

Saturday, it was back to Kalamazoo with the three dogs in my car to meet my parents, get their puppy settled, and take them up to the hospital to see Carrie before her C-Section.  We went out to lunch and got Carrie and Dustin flowers and a balloon.  We also spent a few minutes paused so I could open my presents and then we went back to the hospital where we were able to meet baby Evelyn Josephine.

Nine months and one day from the day Ron died, Evy Jo was born and I became an aunt for the first time.  She is absolutely beautiful and I am so happy for her mom and dad.  Now, I am just hoping for a speedy recovery for Carrie so that she can take care of her darling daughter.   

I wish Ron could be here to meet her because I know how much he liked to hold babies.  I like to think he can see her and watch over her . . . and all of us who continue to remember and love him.  He is so deeply missed every day.