1st birthday during a pandemic. 2nd birthday without my dad. 4th birthday since becoming a mom. 20th birthday since becoming an “adult.” This is 38. The camera angle makes it look like the numbers are reversed: I hope against hope I make it to 83. My dad didn’t make it to 67. My uncle didn’t make it to 34.
It’s a strange and eerie time to have a birthday. I was planning on going to grief group tonight but it was canceled. So many things are canceled or disrupted. And yet other things keep moving right along. I keep thinking about those first few months after my dad died when it just seemed unfathomable that everyone was still going on with their lives and how different (better or worse, I don’t know) it would feel to be in such fresh grief now, when it feels like the world is truly stopped in some ways.
I’ve been thinking a lot, too, about how scared I would be for my dad right now if he was still alive with cancer. How scared I’d be for my residents if I still worked at a retirement center. How scared I am for all the vulnerable populations who are more likely to have a harder time with this virus.
Mostly I’m just thinking a lot of disjointed thoughts, which I’m allowing because it’s my birthday. I miss my dad. I’m concerned about everything that’s happening. And here I am, putting one more candle on the same cake I’ve been requesting every year since I was old enough to say “a simple white cake with white frosting.”
Sending love to everyone.
In grief and with love,
KrissyMick
Photo Credit: Megan Carnahan