How to Survive a Birthday

This is all that April should be:

 

 

And this is what it is:

This week my friend took me out -- okay, dragged me out -- to celebrate Roger's birthday.  It was hard.  I couldn't help but think of how we spent his birthday last year.  Can it only have been one year ago?  A road trip, meeting up with friends, eating seafood and drinking champagne, but most importantly, feeling healthy and optimistic, feeling like we'd beat the odds.  It was so much fun.  This year, not so much.

Although it was painful, we toasted Roger and shed a few bittersweet tears.  Thank you, Terri.  I would have stayed at home and wallowed in self-pity if you hadn't taken me out.  They say that alcohol is no cure for grief.  I get that.  As soon as it wears off, the grief is right there waiting to surge back in.  But, with the acknowledgement that it's not a solution, and with the caveat that I would shed tears before and after, it was nice to have relief from the pain for a couple of hours.  It was just what the doctor ordered, in fact.  I feel greatly relieved that this "first" birthday is over.  I don't think I'll need to be dragged out to celebrate next year.

 I so want to get to a place where memories of Roger trigger smiles, not tears.