I wonder how many years it will be before any thought of my birthday doesn't bring me to the brink of tears? Last year I was so hopeful I was over the raw part.
I wonder if this is something you ever get over? If acknowledging that this is my reality makes it better? I get one day a year to be ok with missing her. That God coincided the day of her birth with mine so I would never forget to pray for her? That in some way, we are tied together for the rest of my life, even if it is never acknowledged anywhere else, God ensured I would never, ever forget. That on this day her value, her worth to me, is always at the front of my mind.
I have promised a friend, facing the same inevitable, unfathomable loss, that she will be ok. And yet, on days like this, it does not feel ok. Most days it does. But not on this day.
My digital photo frame holds 1000 pictures and I awoke yesterday to find it had frozen on a picture of her. 6 months old. Laughing. She is still frozen there because I haven't the strength or the courage to press play or fast forward.
That's how I feel. Rewound and paused.
I will be able to press play on Friday.
I just have to get through tomorrow.
Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to her.