When I blow out the birthday candles on my cake this year, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I want nothing and I certainly don't need more stuff, except maybe an extra set of measuring spoons or a heat-proof rubber spatula. Other than that, I truly need nothing. I wish I would get excited about some trendy Italian handbags or expensive jewelries or even a fancy dinner. Or a puppy. But I don't. I still love my birthday.
Bryan died a few days after I last saw him at the hospital. His memorial service, a celebration of his life, was the 8th memorial service I attended in two years. B and I were not very close, but his wife and I are. We have been buddies for fifteen years. Of all my friends who passed in the last two years, Jeff's loss feels the most like Eric's death. I have tears every time I think about Jeff. It reminds me of what Eric had left behind. It makes me angry my good friend has to go through this shit.
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I think it's time to release Eric's ashes this summer. I am not ready, because I would tear up every time I think about it. Every single time, without fail. But I do not believe there is such a thing as ever being ready to release your spouse's ashes. I reason with myself that it's not about me being ready; it's about Eric's ashes. My husband was never meant to be confined in a box, so why should his ashes? I reason that if I wait until I am ready, I would never do it. I reason with myself that life doesn't wait.
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I wish for peace and healing for Jeff. I wish for familiarity. I wish for tears, but that they would stop after a while. I wish for gratitude. That's what I wish for. I wish for him new normals soon.
I already made my wishes. I don't need candles; please let's just eat cake.
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