I'm pretty sure there are no birthdays in heaven.
For those of us on the earthly side, the calendar turns to August 30th and he is my first thought. The tears well up. My next thought is of others who are no longer with us and all of us sudden the tears swell even more; not only is this our first year without him, but he died on my brother's birthday. My brother's birthday that we've had without him twelve times.
(Side note: His dying on David's birthday was a comfort on the day he died. We figured they were off climbing mountains together. Grief does that; the same thing that makes us smile can also push our mourning.)
On top of all of this, last year on Hymnbo's birthday we had no idea it was the last one. His diagnosis came a few weeks later. As we sat around the table that afternoon, swelling with food and family fellowship, we planned a birthday cruise for a future birthday of his - a birthday that won't ever happen.
I miss him.
It all happened fast.
I turn my thoughts back to the fact that he is in heaven - "hanging out with Jesus" as we have explained to my daughter as she first had to understand death a few years ago - and then none of the rest matters. Heaven is a pretty good place to be.
I sent my mom a message this morning. It was his birthday here, but not yet there (due to the ten hour time difference). I wanted to check in, but with her response any concern I had of the day being full of sadness vanished.
Hymnbo LOVED ice cream. It's a great idea. Guess what we'll be doing after school.