The weekend is over

We do birthdays up right in my family. When we were little it was a huge family affair, dinner and cake and neighbors stopping in to join the fun. We continue those traditions to this day, when we're in Michigan usually. Where ever else Angela and I are, birthdays aren't quite the same. We compensate by doing a birthday week or a birthday month, by claiming every trip somewhere to do something is exciting and special because, well it is. It's a good life we all live here and it's important to celebrate that life.

This weekend though, this birthday weekend of mine, was a little different. I didn't feel like celebrating. I didn't feel like doing much really. I was lost. Sad. Heart broken. Marilyn passed away on Tuesday and each day before and after that was a mess of tears, burned brownies, forgotten tasks, long phone calls home, and usually more tears or broken sobs.

The funeral was Saturday. We made the choice not to go home. So many factors played into this and I know it was not right or wrong but the choice we made. We wanted to be there. But we were not. Saturday was also my birthday. For the first time in years I wasn't looking forward to waking up that morning and celebrating.

Friday night we had a group of friends, new and old, from Angela's school over. It was a festive evening of food, drink, laughter, BBQing, and they surprised me with a lovely fruit tart at the end of the night.

Saturday I opened some gifts early and then Angela and I headed out of town. We had to get away from it all for a bit. So we traveled an hour or so north to Simi Valley and toured the Ronald Reagan Presidential Museum. It was something we'd been talking about doing since we moved to California. And so we did it.

We looked at the artifacts and watched the videos and learned a bit more about history. The coolest part by far was boarding and touring an actual Air Force One plane and a Marine One helicopter. That alone was worth the trip up there.

We ate lunch outside overlooking the beautiful gardens and valleys of the library and then slowly made our way back to the city. It was a very nice respite from the hustle and sad bustle of the week. And afterwards? We settled in for some pizza and some escape to Stars Hollow thanks to Netflix and The Gilmore Girls.

The weekend is over. Today it's back to regularly scheduled life. But the grieving doesn't stop. The celebrating doesn't stop. There are still texts and lunch dates and the goings-on of the every day. And yet? The grieving doesn't stop. I know all too well from my short time on this earth that it never does. And so? We can't stop either. To live with that grief every day is to live. To love. To know that I was loved in return. And so I'll do that today. And tomorrow. Through smiles and through tears. I won't stop.