Happy Birthday

My darling husbandface,

Yesterday was the 19th. 5 months since you died. They always come round and feel like a punch in the stomach but that was the hardest so far because today is your birthday. Last year on the 19th we went out for dinner. I wanted to go to St Albans and go somewhere posh, you wanted to go to Frankie and Benny’s in Hatfield. So we did, but I didn’t tell them it was your birthday the next day because no-one wants to hear Cliff Richard singing ‘Congratulations’ again! (I think we went there too much!)

And then on your birthday we had a lazy morning with presents – you loved the jumper I bought you and wore it non stop until you died – and went to chemo. And as usual, despite having to spend your birthday plugged into a pump, you smile and charmed everyone and we had cake while you subjected us to endless Top Gear repeats. And then we went home (via McDonalds of course – a post-chemo ritual that, while disgusting, I miss so much now) and spent the rest of the day snuggling on the sofa. I cooked you something and we watched rubbish TV.

But now it’s this year, and you’re gone. And instead of spending the last week shopping and cooking and baking and  hiding secrets, I’ve spent it crying and missing you and still so cross that you didn’t make it.

I don’t know whether there’s birthdays in heaven. Or ‘salvation days’… I guess every day is a crazy mad celebration of how awesome God is and how much He loves each and every one of us. (With cake I’m sure – Jesus loved his feasting!) But I’ll be raising a glass tonight, in celebration of you. Of how much you loved me, of the amazing husband that you were  and how your voice at the back of my head saying ‘come on honey, man up, you can do this!’ gets me through every day.

I love you, so much, and I always will. And I miss every day.

Wifelet xxx

 

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