Surviving A Birthday That Is Not Even My Own

The head and the heart always walk the same journey but they do not always share the same experience or arrive at the same conclusion.

Below are two journals from the same journey. One is written from the head and the other from the heart. Do they arrive at the same conclusion? It is much too close for me to discern.

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Written from the head:

I always knew as I aged there would be birthdays I just as soon not see, generally those multiples of 10 that signify aging (hopefully with grace). The birthday I am trying to survive today, however, is not even my own.

Milestones are such a crazy thing. Some of them we look to with anxious anticipation. Others we dread. And still others are met with both dread and anticipation.

Birthdays can be those milestones filled with both dread and anticipation. Consider the 18th birthday. It is often seen with anticipation from the child’s view point. He is looking intently toward future and promise. Somehow 18 makes him ready to conquer the world. That same birthday may be met with dread from the parent who sees a big change on the horizon and a piece of her heart moving farther away.

It is with both anticipation and dread that I look at the coming of this date, John’s earthly birthday so closely followed by his heavenly one.

My kids have been planning for weeks: “Mom, let’s make dad a cake. Can we go out to eat like we used to? We’ll pick some place dad would have loved.” Hailey has told everyone she has seen in the past week that her daddy’s birthday is coming and she is making him a cake.

In one such interaction the other child innocently replied (with no intent to harm), “Your father is dead. Why does he need a birthday cake?”

That child was actually very insightful. The cake is for us not John. In keeping with the scripture and the idea that we are made new upon entering heaven, January 12, no longer carries any meaning for John, just those of us here who miss him. John’s heavenly birthday is now February 17 another date which will soon come to pass for us. Perhaps we should save the cake for then.

So for those who ask the innocent question: “Your father/husband is not here.  Why do you need a cake?” The cake is not for him. It is for us, for my children. A means of remembering, honoring and holding on to that which was once very dear to us.

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Written from the heart:

I tried not to cry today, John. I really did. I wanted to make you proud.  I tried to focus on the memories and this notion that you are celebrating a heavenly birthday, the ultimate prize for a life well lived. I’ve gotten pretty good at tough or numb or whatever you want to call it. It is a survival technique. But by the time I got to work, I was a mess. I couldn’t find a kleenex. (That’s poor planning on my part). I had tears, make-up stains and snot all over my coat and scarf. This day is sad for me. My heart hurts. A day that once was devoted to you, is now magnified without you. I don’t want to have cake or go to dinner. The memories are still mostly painful. Milestones are overwhelming.

I remember when we were facing the inevitable. You were in the recliner and I knelt on the floor next to you with my head on the arm of the chair and cried. Believe it or not, I never cried much before all of this began. But this day I did. You stroked my hair and said, “It’s OK to cry, Sharon. It is a very sad thing.”

I do not know that I can celebrate your birthday without you John Ammons. It will take all I have to help your girls decorate that cake and sit in one of your favorite restaurants. But despite the hurt in my heart, I will. I will go to dinner and I will come home and help the girls decorate the cake. Then we will sing ‘Happy Birthday’. I will do it, not because I feel like it, but because I know it is right and I know that it is important to your girls. At least, maybe, by this evening I’ll be prepared enough to bring kleenex along.

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The head is so much more rational than the heart. I have told my girls on several occasions, the difficulty is often not in teaching your head what is right and wrong. It is in convincing your heart to accept it.