Happy birthday without you

A toast to you

Following right on the heels of Randy’s transplant-a-versary is his birthday - November 1st, and this is the first year that we don’t have him to celebrate. I had asked the local daughters in advance if they wanted to do something for his birthday, and they said yes. We voted to get together at my house to eat some of Randy’s favorite foods and watch one of his favorite movies. I didn’t know what to expect - would it be a sob-fest? Would we feel better or worse afterward? Does it even make sense to celebrate the birthday of someone who’s dead?

Randy’s daughter Hayley arrived first and we sat and talked for a while in a way that we don’t usually get to because she has little kids who are aways saying, LOOK! Look at me. Gramma, let me SHOW you. We talked about kids, Randy’s ashes, parents, Randy’s collection of art books, step parents, whatever came to mind.

My daughter Erin had to work that day, so she came later and we talked some more, again not specifically about Randy. I cooked beef stroganoff (Hayley cut up the meat, which Randy used to do) and Erin made a salad. I’m not sure any of us particularly felt like eating, but we did our best. And we kept talking.

Lots of grief books and grief groups suggest rituals for special days, honoring the lost loved one. Sharing stories, lighting candles, visiting a cemetery. This was not that. What I think we did was support each other through a truly sad day.

Afterward I felt fine, I thought, but for the next three days I was so weighed down by grief that I couldn’t go anywhere or talk to anyone. Would it have been better if we’d had a sob-fest? Taken turns telling stories about Randy and cried together? What’s the best thing to do when you’ve lost the person you love most in the world?