Do you know that my husband would have been 60 years old had he still been alive?
Do you know that I thought he would have been 59? Yes, I forgot how old he is. Only gone 6 years and I can’t even remember his age!
All week I have been working hard to be positive during this hateful, painful time – where we get to remember both Adrian’s birth and his death in the same week. I have purposefully concentrated on the happy memories. How we met and fell in love, our wonderful sons and the music he loved! This year, for the first time in 6 years, I didn’t shed a tear on the anniversary of his death. Well, good for me! Whoop de doo! I must be moving forward in this slow grief process. Onward and upward! Great stuff – just ask everybody. They tell me that is a real step forward and I believed them and myself – it was.
Today, Adrian’s birthday, I forgot how old he was going to be! I can’t believe that after only 6 years I have forgotten how old my husband was to be? I mean to say, we celebrated 28 birthdays together and now I forget?
The tears started ….. and then I realised that there were indeed other things that I failed to do this year. I hadn’t spoken to his mother on the anniversary day! How could I NOT do that? I had visited his grave but unfortunately there was a burial right next to his grave, which meant I couldn’t really have any alone time to arrange the non snapdragon flowers on the grave. Yes, only BabyBoy was able to find snappies to put on the grave but not me …. I left looking too late.
I feel shame today. I feel ashamed today. If moving on means forgetting – I don’t want to move on! I want to stay stuck in the middle of my grief …. at least I remember then!
Happy 60th Birthday Adrian ….. forever 53!