Seventy Two

On the 30th of May, my dad would have turned 72.  I’m posting this today because I don’t know how I’ll react to his birthday.  Last year he was admitted to hospital the day before.  I’d had a cake made for him as he’d reacted really well to the shop bought one he’d had the year before.  He never got chance to eat it.  On his birthday he was in the high dependency unit and not really with it.  I put on a brave face for my dad, but it was really hard seeing him like that.

The first year after a loss is always the hardest.  I now completely understand why the Victorians had a year of mourning.  It wasn’t that it was an arbitrary length of time, it was because the first year is filled full of ‘the first time without’.  It’s not a ‘first time’ experience I wanted but it has to be endured.

This month has been pretty horrific in a lot of senses.  It was my birthday at the start of the month, and pretty much everyone forgot.  I didn’t have any cards to open, and I knew that I wouldn’t three days before.  Silly, I know, but a celebration of your birthday should be a celebration that you matter to people, and I really felt that with the people I lost from my life last year, I no longer mattered.  Not in that there’s at least one person in your life who thinks the world of you.  Losing that sense of belonging has been the hardest to cope with.

 

This week is just going to suck on an emotional sense.  Reminded of something that happened 4 years ago that made me unbelievably happy, and it now makes me overwhelmingly sad.  Then there’s my dad’s birthday on Saturday, the day I was going to scatter his ashes, but just can’t bring myself to do it.  I don’t want his birthday marred with the thought of scattering his ashes.  So I want to try and find something happy to do without him being there to celebrate with me.