It’s My Birthday

Or at least it was.  Yesterday I had my first birthday without my husband, Kevin, around.  He was around for the last 33 of them.  It was a day like any other day, which is how it needed to be.   So how was it really?  It went like this.  I woke up in the morning and cried.  Not body-racking sobs, just quiet tears of sadness.  I got a few text messages from my kids and family, gentle and tentative reach-outs to let me know they hadn’t forgotten, but also that they were unsure.  So was I.  I debated whether or not I would be able to go to work.  Could I keep it together? It would have been so easy to stay home.  The last thing I wanted to do was see anyone.

I went to work. A few people were aware it was my birthday, and so I had a few well-wishers.  I did what anyone would do, thanked them and then moved on.  Mercifully, there was no fuss.  It was a day like any other day.  Except that I knew it wasn’t.  The thing is not to think about it.  Easier said than done, but when I was able to immerse myself in reading, I actually forgot for a while.  It all came back though when it was time to head home.

Pulling into the driveway I was, again, crying – tears streaming down my face.  There would be no one to greet me at the door.  No one to question me about working on my birthday.  Nothing bugged Kevin more than when I would work on my birthday.  He was amazed that anyone would.  Birthdays in his world were about being indulged and being indulgent.  So if I worked on my birthday, I knew when I walked in the door he’d be telling me to think about getting ready to go out.  He’d ‘splash the cash’ and take me and whichever of the kids were around out for a nice dinner. My daughter’s fiance is born on the same day as me.  So we merged the celebrations and still Kevin paid – he was on the hook no matter what – and he was resigned to that fact and happily coughed up the cash.

So this year I came home to an empty house – no Kevin.  It’s just so very sad.  I did, however, have plans for dinner and so was only home for an hour or so and then back out for dinner with the ladies.  A different group of ladies – the ones from my grief group.  The night was really just a get-together as a final thank you to the facilitators and members of the group for sharing and caring through the eight weeks of the class.  They did know it was my birthday and it was handled very well.  They’ve faced these milestones before and understand that for this year, at least, it’s modified slightly.  It’s not ‘Happy Birthday”; it may sound almost the same, but this year for me it’s ‘have a birthday’.  That’s all it was, this year I have a birthday.  Maybe next year it will be back to happy birthday, I am not sure.  The year ahead is unknown, the birthdays are unrelenting – they come regardless of circumstance.  It’s up to me I guess as to whether I have a birthday or I have a Happy Birthday.

How Can You Drain Something Already Empty?

Sometimes I feel like I am surrounded on all sides by mountains whose tops are in the mist; I know they are high, but I don’t know how high.  Somehow, and at some point I have to scale those mountains, but right now all I can do is feel small, powerless and ineffectual and let those mountains loom large in my mind.  It is almost paralyzing how much has to be done.  So my title stands, how can I feel drained when I was empty to begin with?  It’s definitely one of life’s mysteries.

Today I tackled one of the tasks that needed to be done, and that was acknowledge the kindness and generosity of family and friends.  We had a large turnout for the visitation and funeral.  We also had a great response to Kevin’s Endowment Fund.  Necessarily, then, I need to make a point of thanking people.  So today I got the thank you notice prepared for the newspaper and it will be published this Thursday in our local paper.  I also started on the individual thank you cards.  These are much more emotional.  I don’t know how many I will do today, but I do know, that however many I get done, it is that many less I have to do.

For those interested, here is the text that will go in the paper on Thursday:

BATCHELOR, Kevin – I would like to extend my sincere thanks and gratitude to family and friends for the love and support you provided throughout Kevin’s illness.  We were blessed to have the right people come into Kevin’s life at the right time – our family doctor, Dr. Kathleen Michalski, whose compassion and concern for Kevin helped us immeasurably as we faced the inevitable.  Our visiting nurse, Annie, Kevin anticipated your visits so much; he appreciated your advice, kindness and care.  Many thanks to our friends who steadily maintained their support in a myriad of ways as Kevin’s health declined.  Special thanks to those dear friends, Karin and Betty-Ann, who got Kevin to that one last opera, it was one of the best gifts ever.  Steve, Stu, Pat and Joe, long-time friends – your regular check-ins with Kevin were always bright spots for him, even on days when he was tired.  To his nephews and their children: Todd, Glenn, Symonne, Jakob, Alex and Liam – you know he loved you and it brought him great joy just to have you around.  Thank you to my sister Marilyn who worked her magic at RVH whenever we had a visit, it made a huge difference to our stress levels knowing you were there for us, as well as your support outside of the hospital.  A special thank you to June, Kevin’s sister, who has her own battle with the “c” word yet still made a point to join us almost every day after Kevin’s diagnosis, bringing tasty treats to tempt Kevin into eating and exercising with him during commercials for the Y & R.  And thank you to my children, Jesse (Donna), Kelly (Ian) and Christopher (Justine) and grandchildren Troy, Gareth and Lennox – it was a tremendous gift to your father spending time with him throughout this ordeal, talking about everything under the sun while you gave your love freely to him.  I know he values and treasures you still.  And lastly thanks to all those friends, coworkers, family members and former students who contributed to the Kevin Batchelor Endowment Fund administered by the Orillia Museum of Art and History; the response has been overwhelming and demonstrates how one man’s passion for the arts can bring a community together for a common good.