On my first birthday after my husband died (only one so far) I did not have anything going on at all. I decided to take my two children (ages 3 and 4 1/2 at that time) out to eat. We went to a busy place with a somewhat long wait.
My 4 1/2 year old son announced to the hostess (after we'd been waiting for 30 min.) that it was my birthday. A few minutes later he told her "my daddy died" and he had to repeat himself 3 or 4 times because there was music playing and she didn't know what he was saying (or didn't think she was hearing it right?). When I clarified it for her she looked really sad and shocked. We were seated very quickly... maybe a coincidence, maybe not... I ordered myself soup with something, and kid's meals for them. When I got soup they both freaked out that they wanted soup too... so rather than argue at all I just bought them both soup (in my mind adding up how much more this would make their meals cost!)
Later the manager walked by and talked to my kids, gave them extra menus to color on and asked if everything was good. Then said, "I hear it's your birthday" and offered me a complimentary dessert (which I shared with the kids.)
When my bill came it was zero... compliments of the manager. I left a tip and burst into tears and said thank you and left.
My husband was 3 years older than I. He died at 37. Now I'm 35. I think that 36 might be hard... I'll find out in May... but I KNOW that I will have a hard time turning 37. No matter how much better I'm doing, or more centered, or mature, or wise... I just know that it will be a hard thing for me to catch up and then pass his age. One of my early nightmares following his death was that I would never live to be 37 and my children would be orphans.
Birthdays are hard. Anniversaries... Holidays... yes, all hard.
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