Today is my husband’s birthday. He would have been 35 years old.
This day has been creeping up on me since Halloween.
I found myself having to count backwards to remember just how old my husband would have been.
When I realized he would have been 35 I laughed. I laughed because he would have been “old”.
I was thinking about what my husband would look like when he was 60 years old.. 80 years old.. and as hard as I try to envision what he would look like.. my brain cannot come up with an aged Seth vision.
My brain will always see him as 31 years old.
I was thinking about when we were married and planning on growing old together.. I never was able to see us old and gray.
It’s almost like I knew he would never live to be old.
With yesterday being International Survivors of Suicide day and today being my husband’s birthday.. I find it ironic and painful.
Ironic that my husband’s birthday falls the day after Suicide Survivors day.
Years ago I didn’t even know a suicide survivor was a real thing, I would have thought a suicide survivor was someone that attempted and lived through it.. nor did I know there was a day dedicated to suicide survivors.
Years ago I never knew my husband would be dead by 31 years old.. and would be dead by suicide.
Years later here I am.. fully aware what a suicide survivor is. And fully aware there is a day to recognize the suicide survivors among us.
Now I find myself having to do math to figure out how old my husband would be.
Now I have to count backwards to figure out how long it’s been since he died.
Now I find myself dwelling in self care. Trying to get through his birthday. Then Thanksgiving. Then Christmas. Then New Years.
I’m officially half way through my six month slump that paralyzes me every year.
This time last year.. I was a very different person.
I was crippled by my husband’s birthday. I was crippled by the fear of the holidays coming up.
I was crippled by grief and fear.
Fear that I would not live through another year without my husband.
A year later here I am.. looking forward to the holidays. Looking forward to spending time with my family. And not planning on hiding in bed until the day passes.
It’s amazing what passing the three year anniversary has done for me, my life and my grief.
Somewhere along this journey.. Something clicked.
Something clicked to help me recognize my husband’s birthday.. something clicked to stop the paralyzing grief that his birthday brings.
Something clicked that allowed me to say “Happy birthday honey, I love you.”