Birthdays After Loss

Earlier this month I turned 38.

Birthdays are strange days for those of us who have experienced profound loss. They are filled with this duality of deep sadness over the absence of a loved one and also deep gratitude over the privilege to live another year. Celebrating another trip around the sun, while the person we lost remains frozen in time.

This was my fifth birthday without Brad.

That’s a hard fact to wrap my head around. It still feels like yesterday, but in that time I’ve moved twice, dated different men, started new jobs, adopted a second dog, said goodbye to more people I love, and witnessed several little ones come into this world.

Brad is gone, yet so much life has continued in his absence.

In past years I’ve struggled with my birthday - knowing I should celebrate and should be grateful, but I couldn’t get there, not fully. It all felt too hard.

But this year felt like a shift - however small. Maybe it’s living in the shadow of a pandemic or maybe it’s just a healthy sign of healing, but it was the first birthday I wanted to celebrate.

I still thought about Brad and my extreme fortuitousness to continue aging. But I also thought about me and how I wanted to acknowledge the joy of witnessing another year.

So this year, to pat myself on the back for the simple fact that I’m alive, I spent the week chasing sunrises, hunting for dinosaurs, and finding peace.

And it felt pretty fucking good.