Happy Birthday, Kerry.

We are always the same age inside. ~ Gertrude Stein

Today Kerry would have been 53. If you’d told me when I planned a huge surprise party for his 50th birthday that I’d be writing about him in past tense, I would have said you were crazy. I also would have lost sleep thinking about it because you even suggested it. I wouldn’t have believed I could live even one day without him.

The lead up to big days always gets me. I started feeling jumpy last week. I couldn’t figure out why at first. Father’s Day had come and gone. Gracey’s birthday went ok. Then, I realized. His birthday was next. Ugh. 

It’s not the bad days that are going to hurt the way they did last year. If anything, all those days that marked the end are days I’d just as soon forget. No sense in memorializing those and remembering how sick he felt. I won’t revisit them if I can help it. In fact, I may stay as busy as possible from July to the end of October from now on.

It’s the good days that sting. The ones when things went right. Damn it, I miss those. I want to sit with him and reminisce about the birthdays and anniversaries of years past. I want to pull out the old pictures of us celebrating and try to recall details while he fills in the blanks of my memory. I want to go to bed exhausted from celebrating and laugh about things that happened.

It’s not often I let myself wallow in self pity or even allow others to show me they feel sorry for me. I was raised to pull up my bootstraps. As I’ve said many times, I told myself I could cry in the tub and in bed… no in between! (I have failed miserably some days, but it’s a goal!) The sad days are really few and far between. I always look to the future.

But today I really feel sorry for me… and him. Not to mention feeling sorry for my kids and all the rest of the family.  We didn’t get enough time. Our story ended before we were ready, and that isn’t fair. 

As you can imagine, he never wasted fanfare for his birthday. Many years we went to see my daddy because he and Kerry had birthdays one day apart. We’d hang out in Missouri, pop firecrackers, pick blueberries, and just have fun. Some years I’d plan something fun for us to do by ourselves. But we always had fun. He was always game for whatever crazy idea I presented. But they were ALWAYS good days. And I am thankful for the memories of them.

I sure hope he’s found some friends to celebrate with in Heaven. Maybe he’s riding his mountain bike and drinking a few cold ones with Chad. Or fishing with his dad somewhere beautiful. His grandmother might have his favorite cake for him. And then again… he might actually be taking a nap and resting - something he never did often enough. 

Whatever he’s doing, I sure wish I could be with him to do it too. 

Happy birthday, Kerry. I still love you so very much.