Thursday, March 17, 2016
The Birthday Party
I do well for the party. I enjoy visiting with my daughter's parents and other family members, and I love watching my kids all together in one place. We usually eat a nice lunch, open gifts, and then sing the compulsory "Happy Birthday," before eating cake and ice cream.
The happy birthday song makes me tear up, pretty much every year. Yes, I know that it's a happy song, and yes, I know that we are celebrating. There's just something about the chorus of happy birthday that reminds me of everything that I have missed. For me, it isn't just a song. It's a reminder of the last 365 days that I didn't bring my birth daughter to school, or brush her hair, or have a seat for her at my dinner table.
I struggle with grief around the time of her birthday, not because I regret my decision, but because I miss all of the moments that everyone else takes for granted. I miss the time we haven't spent together, the movies we haven't watched together, and the hugs that I will never receive.
Around my daughter's birthday, I miss her more. And the Happy Birthday song is there to prove it.