I had a birthday last week.
And today it finally hit me.
As I was gathered around my family and they were singing to me before I blew out my candles, I had to work hard to curb the tears in my eyes that five days after my birthday was the first time I'd been sung happy birthday to. It got even harder to hold the tears in as I opened the present from my parents---the one and only present I opened this year.
It's hard to explain this without sounding like a spoiled brat. My birthday has always been my favorite day of the year because it is my special day. Peter would always get me presents and we would go out to dinner and spend time together on my birthday. The celebrations were always happy.
This year on my birthday, I spent all morning at school and the rest of the day being a single mom. It felt like a normal day. No presents, no cake, no singing, and no one to be by my side to tell me they loved me and always would.
I don't know why my birthday is a time that just gut-punches me into the reality that I am divorced but it does. It hurts. It makes me sad. It makes me feel so alone.
I mentioned something about how thankful I was for my present because it was the only one I had gotten and it was so special to me and the room got quiet---no one knew quite what to say other than my sister mumbling, "Awkward...". It came out totally wrong. I was trying to express my gratitude and show my parents just how much I cherished their gift but instead it just sounded like a sob story.
I wish I wouldn't have said anything. I wish I wouldn't have made it a big deal that they got me a present. It's not like it was anything huge---it's just that it's mine. It is a tribute to having survived another year on this earth. It is a celebration of twenty seven years worth of gratitude and happiness and heartache and learning and growing. It doesn't matter that it is a t-shirt and socks...it is something I have to help me remember that I am not alone even when I feel alone.
Another year older and wiser too.
Happy birthday to you.
