Every birthday for my angel is hard. She would have been 13 as of the 2nd of this month. She would have been a teenager. For some reason, when it hit, it was a gut punch this year. I got weepy a day or two in advance as I hit a song or an image of a baby. Just the usual triggers. One song popped up on my FaceBook that struck me hard. It's not my genre of music, but I had to listen to it multiple times.
On her actual birthday, I was so busy most of the day that I didn't have the time to think about what day it was. Every time it crept up on my consciousness, I focused on the work I had to do. But as the night crept on, I felt the night creeping on. Nights are often hardest.
My sister has been coming over every year for five years to be part of Alli's birthday. It felt harder than usual because she's no longer in the area. After what happened last year, I didn't get so much as a FaceBook message or a text, and I felt that. The isolation felt particularly painful.
Then, that night, my friend, who is now my neighbor, showed up with her kids that night. They listened as I shared with my family the Alli baby book. As the pictures drew to the images of my baby's waxy face in her coffin, she held me when I sobbed. And I sobbed hard, a lot. Maybe in part because this 30-year friendship of ours has grown into more of a sisterhood. Her arms felt so supportive and kind. My husband and child are always there and know the story. They are there for me. But it feels different when I share it with outsiders. We ended the night on angel food cake and games. I was able to smile by the end of the night.
There's a lot of power in a supportive set of arms holding you, supporting you when things get hard. Because I now have this best friend next door, I feel like I have more arms to hold me when times get hard. I'm so thankful for my support system. I hope those who are suffering can find one, too. And if it's not your turn to suffer, I hope you're there for those whose turn it is.
