I should have awakened to three birthday cards from Doug. For every occasion, he gave me three cards, and I had to open them in order: the first was always hilarious, the second was over-the-top schmoopy, and the third was a wild card.
I had to work today, so there wouldn't have been a fancy breakfast (we would've saved that for the weekend), but he'd most likely be grilling dinner right now, having poured me a beer and a shot to celebrate my birthday. And he would have picked up some decadent cupcakes for dessert.
I won't say that I miss Doug more today, because I miss him immensely all the time. But what I do miss are those damn cards, because he always picked great ones. I miss hearing him say, "Happy Birthday, Beautiful." I miss the kisses and hugs I would've gotten throughout the day.
I can't say I miss hearing him say, "Happy Birthday, Wife," because he never got the chance to say that. And even though I know I'm NOT his wife anymore, I still feel very much married to him. I'm still every bit as in love with him as I have been for the past almost-five years. I still refer to him as my husband rather than my late husband, almost all the time.
Many people honored my request to completely ignore my birthday, and I'm very grateful for that. Many others reached out to me, but were kind enough not to go the cheery "Happy Birthday!" route. And quite a few went the cheery route, probably out of reflex. And I know they did it out of affection for me, so no hard feelings, but...
I appreciate the kindness on all fronts. It probably won't surprise you, however, to know that it has not been a happy birthday. It's been a terribly lonely birthday, despite the best efforts of many people who tried to make it otherwise. It's been lonely because the person I'm lonely for is the one person who isn't here. And it's sad because life moves on - even for me - and I can't. At least, not yet. I'm still not sure I'll ever be able to, or ever even want to. I still want my husband back. It's the ONLY thing I want, and I can't have it.
Doug's best friend Mike (and at some point, I really need to start referring to him as MY friend, because he is - but I only have him in my life because of Doug, and so Doug gets the credit) texted me this morning to inform me that he was going to be in my neck of the woods today, and he was going to my favorite Indian restaurant for lunch and would be picking up food for me and dropping it on the porch. His tone suggested that it was not really a question, and saying "that's not necessary!" wasn't really an option. And that's how I ended up with enough Samosas and Ghobi Manchurian to have for lunch and dinner. He brought flowers, too, which was a lovely touch.
I had my weekly session with Brooke today, as she has a conflict for our regular Thursday session tomorrow. She suggested I consider going to a cabin for a week or two, just to have a change of scenery. She even recommended cabins in Georgia that she's visited, and they're dog-friendly. I went to the web site, and looked at the cabins... and immediately started crying. Because the views from these cabins are gorgeous. Because I know it would be good for me to get away (and I can work from anywhere there's broadband internet, so I wouldn't even have to take time off), but I'm afraid I'd be miserable, even in all that beauty, because I'd want so desperately for Doug to be with me. Because I don't even know if a change of scenery would help me, because wherever I go, I'm still gonna be there. And I don't much enjoy my own company these days.
Somewhere early afternoon, I realized that Friday is a holiday (yes, July 4 is Saturday, so they're giving us the holiday on Friday). A three-day weekend. And I got SO ANGRY. I used to love three-day weekends. Now, it's just one more day I have to fill while not actually going anywhere or doing anything. And it's not even that I'm bored, exactly. It's just that I'm on this endless wheel of... nothingness. I just pass time. I may not cry every minute that I'm awake, but I have no more of a life than I did 131 days ago.
I know that lots of people are thrilled that I'm still here. I wish I shared their enthusiasm, but I'm profoundly sad. Living without Doug is more painful than I can express, and lonelier than anyone who hasn't been here can imagine. My life is all emptiness, all the time. I'm just drifting through the days, the weeks, the months, and nothing really matters. I'm like that character Pete Davidson plays on SNL, but without the good humor: It's a beautiful day? ok. Hamilton will be on Disney+ this weekend? ok. I swear, somebody could hand me enough money to retire right now, and my response would be: ok.
So, yeah. I'm another year older. I'm another year closer to death. And I'm without the one person I want and need the most. And that really doesn't feel like anything worth celebrating to me.
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