Today is my son's 14th birthday, and this year, my grief told me to go somewhere.... to run away. Last year, all I wanted to do was cocoon myself at home with a bottle of wine and a big blanket. (Or was it a blanket and a big bottle of wine?) I don't know why that same idea literally made me sick to my stomach this year. So, I am writing this from Budapest, Hungary. And while I am really thankful to not be at home right now, my broken heart is still just as broken in Hungary as it is every where I go. My grief lied to me.
The thing about my son's birthday is that I don't have his lifetime of happy moments to balance out the day of his death. All that I have of him is the day that he was born. And that's all I'll ever have. The unfairness of it all burns so badly today. I want to celebrate his birthday, I really do. I want to be the epitome of an inspirational meme that says I smile in the face of sadness, or whatever crap that floats around the internet that makes people feel even worse because they've realized that those memes are total bullshit and that maybe smiling in the face of sadness is impossible at that particular moment. I am not inspirational.
I just want my son here. With me. And I want to be fucking angry that he isn't, just for today.
I think about my son every single day. I think about the day he was born every day too. I think about all sorts of things about my baby, like what he would look like... would he be taller than me by now? Would he make the same kinds of faces that his sister does when I make tomato soup for supper? Are his eyes still blue like they were when he was born? All kinds of things run through my brain about a person I am so deeply in love with, but don't know. Usually, these are just passing thoughts that I do not dwell on for more than a few microseconds before getting on with the reality of normal life.
I re-live every memory I have of May 3, 2002 every year on his birthday. I can't help it. The single most profound & devastating day of my life isn't just another normal day and I can't even attempt to pretend that it is, so basically I'm a gosh damned mess all day. My physical & emotional memories of bringing that sweet baby boy into this world after 33 hours of labor are all that I have of him, and they mean everything to me, even though they're painful. And no matter what my grief says, I can't run from it.
I know that my grief will change again and I won't be this sad for very long. I know that my spirit will go back to eating up those stupid inspirational memes because I'll be honest.... I can't help myself. I know that my grief will change again and what felt painful today may be comforting tomorrow. I am trying to accept my grief however it chooses to come.
I just miss him.