My first birthday, without her

I turned 60 a few days ago. I am not sure if it was out of sympathy for my bereavement but I do not recall having so many people fussing over me before, over what I still view as another uneventful moment of my life.

I had rarely given much thought to birthdays, particularly if they are my own. Growing up in the so-called Baby Boomers generation, which already suggested that babies might be a dime a dozen, our parents were either too dirt poor or too busy eking a living to ever contemplate about birthday parties. Few could afford such luxurious distractions.

But times have changed. Most families these days would gather at fancy restaurants for sumptuous meals to celebrate birthdays. This has been the SOP for our family clan, since it came into being. But when it comes to my birthday, the last one within the family for the year, I would try to pare down on lavishness. Any “hole-in-the-wall” simple restaurant would do. But Jenny would resist the suggestion. Rather than risk being accused later on for being cheap, as she would be picking the tab, my birthday treat would at least be celebrated in some half-decent restaurant.

So in her absence, Jenny’s sisters generously took over her role and arranged a sumptuous lunch treat  at a posh Italian restaurant for the family clan on the weekend before my actual birthday. It was heartrending even as I enjoyed the savoury meal. On the same day, dinner was a fine dining experience hosted for me by my close friend J and his family. Remarkably, we actually share the same birthday.

The next day at work, during lunch-hour my division staff blindsided me with a surprise party in the office, complete with party hats, balloons and other colourful regalia.  They made me feel like a king of sorts. Which is always a wise thing to do for your boss. Come evening, my kids bought dinner and the feasting continued to the following few days with lunch treats from a few close colleagues.

I should count myself fortunate and even blessed. There is no shortage of people going an extra lap to lift me from the rut of bereavement. They would not allow my birthday slip by quietly. After all this would be the first of my birthdays since I got married, spent without the company of my dear belated wife.

But truth be told that if not for all their kind interventions, I would have just let the day drift by. Like any other day. To be exact, any of the 180 days, since Jenny’s passing on. And as another day of a long and endless journey of grief.  Yes, I have crossed into my sixth decade of existence, but what was the big deal?

I received a torrent of birthday greetings, at work and out, through emails, phone and Facebook messages.  “Happy Birthdays”, repeated many times over. I suppose there are not many other ways to articulate birthday wishes.

But with her absence that surrounds me completely and pervasively, hanging on stubbornly like the haze around our island, the giant hole gaping within me makes happiness an alien experience to internalise.  Come to think of it, I have quite forgotten how happiness really feels like anymore now.

Not that I could not remember ever being happy. I was generally a happy person and through my married years, I could declare that I have always been more happy than sad. But if you ask me now how happiness feels - damn, I will be stumped for an answer.

To be in that airy state of mind – blissful and blithe, alive with merriment, spirited and high on euphoria and enchantment, elated or peaceful, in seventh heaven or just contented. It is easy to describe the various states of happiness. But to actually be happy now that she is gone would be unreal, a hopeless endeavour to achieve. I can put on a cheerful face but it is a mask that wears out and melt away after a while.

For the bereaved, to live in a world no longer shared with this single person who mattered most, happiness will always be elusive. One can fill the day with all kinds of activities. But these past-time activities are distractions at best. 

I have also realised all too well, it is only the unhappy person who has a need for distractions. A sad fact, but true.

So my first birthday without the love of my life came and went. People close to me, mindful of my loss, helped make me feel special. Crossing into a new age group, my life moves into a new trajectory. However I might view it, the journey ahead is a bleak and scary one. So many uncertainties, unfamiliar problems that will emerge, tribulations that will need to be dealt with largely on my own. So much unlearning and relearning to cope with.

I see a rocky path ahead, between this day and the next birthday, which seems very far away. But at this age and juncture of my life, it is just as well if time could stand still for me.  I will just take a step at a time.