Ruining My Own Birthday

It started this morning as the messages from well-meaning friends rolled in telling me "Happy birthday. I hope it's the best!" and "Happy birthday, I hope you're doing great!" and the worst "Happy birthday, I hope all of your wishes come true!" I thought to myself that clearly it's not going to be "the best." It's very obvious that I'm not "doing great!" And how could all of my wishes come true when no wish can bring Blake back? Did people somehow think that just because it's my birthday that my life would magically get better? If anything, today being my birthday put more pressure on me to feel happy when I. Just. Don't.

I started getting mad at everyone. How dare they wish me happy birthday like it could actually be a happy birthday. I'm not sure what I'd rather them write to me though. Maybe I didn't want them to write anything at all. I just wanted this day to disappear. I just wanted to disappear.

After I allowed myself to fume for a while, I started seeing things from a different perspective. Of all the million other things these people had to do today, they decided to take the time to write or call me. When they didn't have to, they made the effort to let me know I was on their mind. I realized it didn't matter what they said, it was the act itself that was special. So from that moment on, I made the decision to respond to each and every message with gratitude and appreciation.

I let this consume me for the entirety of today. I became very obsessed with making sure that everyone knew how much it meant to me to get their message and how grateful I was to have them in my life. I spent so much time doing this that I forgot that the day was supposed to be about enjoying myself. But I didn't want to enjoy myself. I used gluing myself to the computer as a way to avoid all of that.

My dad happened to be in town for business, so he took me out to dinner for my first and only meal of the day. I shoveled burrito into my mouth as I cried to him about how much I hated this day and wanted it to end. I had a class at seven I was supposed to go to, but decided I couldn't let my classmates see me like this. They would want a happy, smiley birthday girl... the kind of birthday girl that I just wasn't able to be for them today.

I missed the cake that they bought to surprise me with. It was pink and perfect and most importantly, purchased with so much thought and love. They sent me a picture of the cake, a video of them singing happy birthday to me, and reassuring messages that they understood why I wasn't there. I cried more. Why couldn't I just be normal and let myself have a happy birthday?

I don't think there has ever been a lonelier 24 hours in my whole life. The worst part is they didn't have to be that way, I made them that way. It's nobody's fault but mine that I chose to be distastefully detached from my own birthday. I have never been more relieved for a day to be over. Thank God for October 11th.

The Blue Heart

Somewhere in my darkest moments of searching for strength, I rediscovered the word resilience. For me, resilience meant acknowledging the weight in my heart and committing to fight each day by carrying it with respect. This pledge of resilience was sparked by a quote that I found: "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" I posted a picture of it on my Instagram with a caption that read "Resilience" followed by a blue heart and a bear.

The bear was a pretty straightforward choice because Bear was a name that I called Blake. The blue heart was chosen mainly because I remembered Blake telling me that his best friends from high school used to call him Blue. I'm pretty sure he got this nickname simply because he liked to wear a lot of blue clothing (high school boys are so creative). I also chose a blue heart because it didn't feel right to use a cheerful pink heart when mine felt so sad. I chose blue because it reflected the sadness of loss. And from that point forward, all of my Instagrams about Blake included the little blue heart emoji.

(Fast forward to a couple months later) As I shared in the post about Blake's birthday, I had a really hard time figuring out what to say to him as I sat at his grave. For several minutes I stared at the assortment of sand, shells, and sea glass that Blake's mom had offered me to give to him as a present. While zoning out, one of the dark blue pieces of sea glass caught my eye. I picked it up and noticed that it was almost heart shaped. I squeezed it tightly in the palm of my hand, brought it up to my heart, and sent a message to Blake. Finding the heart gave me the inspiration I needed to connect with him. 

After I finished, I looked over the piece of blue sea glass again and realized that it was almost the exact same size and shape as the heart already engraved on Blake's headstone. When Blake's mom and Nana came back over, I told them the story and showed how it matched up perfectly. Blake's mom thought that this must be a sign and encouraged me to get super glue to affix the sea glass to his headstone. Now the blue heart is a permanent part of it.

As I was reflecting on this meaningful moment after I got home from Blake's birthday weekend, I decided that I wanted to get a piece of jewelry with what had now become a very significant blue heart. Not only was the blue heart something I had been using all along in the captions of my pictures of Blake, but now a blue heart in the form of sea glass had popped out at me and helped me find the strength to deliver Blake a birthday message at his grave. On top of all of that, while I was searching for jewelry with blue stones, I discovered that the blue sapphire is the birthstone of September, the month Blake was born in. It was all too serendipitous and perfect.

The blue heart necklace I ordered arrived in the mail yesterday. When I wear it, I will think about the different blue hearts that have become part of my life thanks to Blake. I will think of Blake's best friends, who gave him the nickname Blue that inspired the little blue heart emoji in all of my pictures. I will think of his family, who generously allowed the blue heart shaped sea glass to become part of his headstone in the same way they have lovingly taken me in. And I will undoubtably think of the loss of my true love, Blake, whom I will carry with me forever inside of my own blue heart. 

But most importantly, when I wear this blue heart I will think about resilience, the word I vowed to live by when my connection with the blue heart first began. The blue heart will remind me that courage doesn't always roar. Resilience is not about bouncing back immediately with smiles and positivity. Sometimes bravery is a quieter determination, slow, but with consistent resolve to always try again tomorrow. 

Focusing on Me

Every year I start my birthday countdown over a month in advance. I mark off each day with anticipation, thinking about what I'll do, who I'll spend it with, and how much cheesecake I'm going to consume. But this time I was blindsided. When I saw that the date today is October 1st I realized my birthday is less than ten days away and I didn't even care. If fact, I was dreading it.

I thought back to only two weeks ago when it was Blake's birthday. I started planning three months ahead for my drive out to Arizona for that weekend. I wanted everything about that day to be perfect for him. The flowers, the gifts, the cemetery visits, everything. Even though I knew I couldn't spend Blake's birthday with him, I thought incessantly about how I could feel as connected to him as possible during that time.

Looking back on the amount of energy I put into Blake's birthday makes me feel strange about the attitude I have towards my own. But this stark contrast isn't only about birthdays. Actually, it's not about birthdays at all. The opposite reaction to my birthday only stands as a reflection of a bigger problem: in letting myself be consumed by mourning Blake, I have pushed my own needs aside.

Since Blake died, I feel incompetent at taking proper care of myself. Most days I'm just grateful that I got my body out of bed, so what that body looks like doesn't seem as consequential. This means wearing glasses every day, no make up, and ragged hair piled messily on the top of my head. But this apathy isn't limited to just the superficial care. I also find myself choosing to ignore basic practices that keep me healthy. Eating well, sleeping, exercising, and time with friends are all casualties added to the list of things that no longer command my attention. It's nearly impossible to focus on myself when my mind is working at full capacity ruminating about Blake.

So as crass as this may sound, I need to remember that I am the one who is still alive, not him. I am the one who still has the ability to learn, go on adventures, meet new friends, and have birthdays that serve as more than just a day of remembrance of the life I once had with the people I once shared it with.

Gradually I need to shift my focus back on to me, my health, and my future. Although it's going to take time to learn to prioritize my personal needs over my preoccupation with Blake, I am going to take the first step by starting with my birthday. I will take back the happiness associated with one of my favorite days of the year and reclaim it for myself. Because I am alive, and that is reason enough to celebrate. My birthday this year will be all about appreciating my life, the people who are a part of it, and creating new memories with them.

And cheesecake, lots and lots of cheesecake.

Happy Birthday, My Love

As I woke up this morning I couldn't help but think about how different this day would have been. Instead of visiting Blake's grave, I would've planned a birthday party with him. This day would have reminded me of how lucky I was to be dating Blake instead of just highlighting his absence and the hole it's left in my heart.

Blake's mom, grandmother, and I made our first visit of the day early in the morning. As we pulled up to his plot, a flood of memories from his funeral rushed through my brain. I remember it vividly as if it happened three and a half days ago, not three and a half months. I thought about the huge school bus of his friends, the embrace of his family, and the rose I was given to leave over his heart. What a draining and unforgettable day. 

When we got to his grave, one of Blake's best friends was already there visiting him. Before he left, he helped us dig a trench around Blake's headstone so that I could sprinkle his gift in it. I brought him sand, shells, and sea glass. Blake loved the beach, especially the beaches of San Diego. We always planned that I would move there for graduate school and then he would move there to meet me as soon as he could. San Diego was always our dream so I've struggled with the unfairness of how I am able to live it and he can't. These gifts became my way of bringing the beach to him and letting him be a part of that life.

After talking with Blake's mom about the beautiful symbolism of the gift, we decided that I should bring bits of the beach from down my street to give him every time I come to visit. This would remind both of us that I have the privilege and honor of living our dream for both him and me. 

Blake's mom and grandmother left me for a while so that I could have time alone with Blake and they could go visit his grandfather. I laid a towel down and sat staring at his picture. I felt the over 100 degree heat, the slight and oh-so-necessary breeze, and a great deal of "so now what?"

I heard Blake's voice in my head urging me to say something, anything! "Hello, it's my birthday why aren't you telling me how much you love me and how great I am?" But I couldn't. I just sat there, frozen, wondering why this was so awkward for me. I looked at the trees, the sky, the other headstones next to his. Who were his neighbors? Were they nice? Is he friends with them? His voice again, "Hello! Focus on ME!" 

I looked down at the sand, shells, and blue glass I gave to him. I sat there blankly staring at it for what seemed like hours. Then suddenly, one of the dark blue pieces caught my eye. I picked it up and noticed that it was almost heart shaped. I rubbed it between my fingers and started to close my eyes. I squeezed it tightly in the palm of my hand and brought it up to my heart. 

I'm not even sure what I said to Blake in my mind, but I instantly knew it was the right thing to say. I felt calm and at peace as I took a second look at the glass. It was a weird kind of heart shape that reminded me of the chubby, circular heart on his headstone. I decided to rest the glass on top of it to see how it matched up. It was the perfect size. 

When Blake's mom and grandmother came back I told them about the heart shaped glass. His mom immediately said that I needed to find some super glue so the blue heart could become a permanent part of his headstone. At that moment, hearing her say that filled my heart so completely with love that I felt like I could burst. What an honor. I have always felt accepted by his family, but this was on another level. Here was this gorgeous, expensive headstone and she thought enough of me to encourage me to stick a random piece of glass on it. I don't think I can ever express how much that gesture meant to me. 

I went back two more times today, once with three more of Blake's best friends and again with his whole family. Neither time was about seeing and talking to Blake again, but rather to be around the people who loved him. The love they were emitting made me feel good. Experiencing their love for him made me feel like everything was going to be ok, we would get through this together.

Tonight ended with a family dinner at Blake's sister's house. The people were perfect, the food was delicious, but I was silently a mess. I looked at these wonderful people and thought, with complete amazement, about the lengths they went to to make me feel included and cared for. These strangers had become my family and it was all because of Blake. But the most essential link to our relationship wasn't with us tonight. He was supposed to be sitting right next to me squeezing my hand excitedly because his family and I got along so well. The way I fit in seamlessly almost made me feel worse. To have developed such a strong bond with them that he would never witness was a reality too sad to believe.

Blake's birthday was hard, but we got through it. I felt such a range of emotions throughout the day, but the one constant was the love I felt from his friends and family. Never once did I feel alone on a day that could've otherwise emphasized my loneliness.  I realize more and more every day how truly lucky I am to love and be loved by so many wonderful people. And it's days like today that make me feel even more blessed to have the new friends and family Blake brought into my life. Although this love will never replace Blake's, it helps sooth that hole in my heart.

Visiting Blake's Grave

Although each 23rd is difficult (we would've been together for another month as a couple) and each 28th floods me with memories (the date he passed away), I think September 21st marks a different, possibly harder milestone. Blake's birthday is on Saturday. He would've been turning 26.

I couldn't be more grateful that his birthday happens to fall on a weekend this year. Without having to miss any school, I am going to leave immediately after class tomorrow and drive to Arizona. I am staying at his parents house and spending the entire weekend with his family. I can't imagine being able to spend it anywhere else with anyone else.

Blake's headstone was recently put in place, just in time for his birthday. On Saturday I am going to visit him in the cemetery for the first time since his funeral. How do I feel about this? Terrified, honestly.

What do you do when you visit the grave of someone you love and miss so much it hurts? 
Do I go with other people so I have someone to hold me or by myself so we can talk in private?
Do I talk to him out loud or in my mind?
Do I avoid stepping on the dirt he is buried under out of respect or do I allow myself to collapse on top of him?
Do I look at the picture on the headstone, the grass beneath it, or at the sky?
Do I try to act strong so I don't scare the other people around me?
Do I allot myself a certain amount of time so I don't end up staying there all day?

These are the questions I can't stop myself from anxiously posing in my head. I know that whatever I do will be fine, but that doesn't prevent me from wondering anyway. I just hope more than anything I feel him with me. As long as he's there, it doesn't matter what I do.