It's coming up this week, my angel's birthday. I haven't started feeling it yet, which is good. I always like when I can avoid thinking about it for as long as possible. I'll deal with the emotional field mines when they come. It would be nice if they can wait until Thursday, her actual birthday. This countdown to blast off emotions reminds me of her actual birthdate, which is 3-2-10, 3210, a literal countdown to ground zero. Even as I write this, I'm hearing one of the songs that helped me through the dark days after her loss plays. It's "Be Still" by Hillary Weeks, who I understand is the number one Christian recording artist. Several of her songs spoke to me when it felt like no other light could penetrate the dark cloud in which I resided. It's only as I write this and hear that song that I feel that day coming like thunderclouds dragged toward me by a merciless wind.
I know I will survive. I have survived five others just like it with a trip to the LDS temple, a birthday party to celebrate her short life, homemade presents from the kids, her abbreviated baby book, and an angel food cake. She would be seven. That's a big girl, full of personality and hugs I won't receive until we're reunited again.
I have to work that day. I'm not sure whether to view it as a blessing (that busyness will help me not think) or a curse (that no matter what I do, I'll be unable to do anything about those thoughts that will come). There is just no winning on that day or on her death day four months later. I'll try to turn it into a celebration and see if I can turn that day from the deep emotional dark hole I fear it may be to a day full of smiles and gratitude that I got those four months with my precious angel.
