It was my Mum's birthday on Wednesday. Her 72nd, and the first one she's had since my Dad passed away. I took time off work and went to visit in the afternoon/evening, and my sister turned up shortly after. My niece had already been to visit first thing in the morning. It seemed like, without actually talking about it, we'd all conspired to arrange our time so that Mum wouldn't be left on her own throughout the day, and I'd never seen her receive so many cards.
As usual I spent alot of my time at Mum's trying not to cry; the place feels so empty without Dad. And as usual my Mum was more than happy to talk about him, in this case about birthdays that they'd had in the past, seemingly without getting upset. She hasn't cried about my Dad at all, which she finds as strange as I do. Oh well, I've cried enough for the pair of us. Still do.
Everyone says that the first year after a loved one dies is the hardest. It's hitting all those landmarks - birthdays, Christmas etc - and not having them around. But I'm not finding those landmark days any harder than any other. Both Father's Day and what would have been my Dad's birthday were too close after he died for me to differentiate the pain on that day to any other. I guess the test will be my own birthday and then Christmas, but to be honest I can't imagine they'll hurt any more than any other day I don't get to hear my Dad tell me he loves me.
Have a good weekend, dear readers. I know I intend to.
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