Late last week, I blogged about my experience of finding last year's birthday card and how I reacted when I saw it. It is rather timely in the fact that, next week is my birthday. Bill reaching down? Preparing me? Breathe!
As I mentioned before, getting older has never really been my issue. I think it is largely because I have always felt that women in their mid to late sixties always seemed so beautiful to me. There is wisdom in every wrinkle from all the laughter they have shared, wisdom in each gray hair from all of life's experiences and worries and wisdom in the fact that their sagging came from baring children and all the half-eaten or stolen meals because they were too busy taking care of their family. I guess you can say, that as I see my wrinkles, gray hair (and I have quite a few) and my rolls as badges of honour.
Bill and I were not of the same opinion. He so hated the "1's" ... ie. 31, 41, 51! He always said the "10's" only meant that you were still part of the previous decade. So here's the deal. He will not see 61! Indeed, he will never see the end of this decade - the 50's! He used to joke around saying that every year is a bonus because some psychic had once told him that he would die before the age of 33 ~ still I know that 41 and 51 were difficult birthdays for Bill. *Grin* Being the kind and understanding wife that I was - I loved to play up these birthdays.
I so wish that I could say that for me, losing my husband has only strengthened my appreciation for older-younger women. Actually, as I quickly look in the mirror in the morning (cause I have to) I keep wondering, "When did this happen?" I guess Bill's twitching moustache when he saw me coming down the stairs in the morning, or when I happen to dress up for a special occasion, had a way of keeping me young in my mind. I was seeing myself through his eyes.
How fragile life can be.
This past week, I have been struggling with my emotions. I kept looking at the calendar and noticing that the "monthly anniversary" was coming up but my grief routine didn't usually kick in this early. So what's up with that?
Then today I clued in; my birthday next week. It's not like we made a big fuss about each other's birthdays - actually he was better at that then me for there was always an envelope waiting for me on my pillow. Sometimes, we would do something different but never big. I know I have a few years to live before I get to his age of 56 when life ended for him but as I near my birthday, I can't help but think of how young he was. I still have this image of him making me a sandwich before our game, how we came off the surface smiling and happy to have won a game, kissing him and saying see you at home and life ended for him shortly after getting home ~ and mine kept moving on.
How fragile life can be.
In a previous blog, I spoke about the "milestones" and how it is harder to anticipate these then to actually live them. Well, I believe I am in a period of anticipation. So please do not pop the corks and pat me on the back. I wish to live this one birthday quietly as it was. Until then, I will endeavour to not have too many public meltdowns, not to take it out on unsuspecting strangers, friends and family. I know that I will be thinking a lot about Bill (as is my usual) and how I will miss that little envelope on my pillow.
I can only ask that when I meet him again, he will be 56 and I will be 51 forevermore! ~ Twitching moustache and all. ~
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