I'm finding it difficult to feel comfortable calling the day his 'birthday'. The word sounds too frivolous and happy. In my head I've been calling it the anniversary of his birth, but that doesn't sit right with me either. Why shouldn't he be able to have a 'birthday' like everyone else? In the end, though, it doesn't matter what we call it. 24th November is Max's special day, and a special day for us because it was the day he came into our lives and changed us forever. It's the only day he was ever alive in the outside world. It's the day he took his only breath before returning to the stars from where I'm sure he came.
That we've lived one year without Max is something I can't quite believe. I guess the last few months have crept up on me as I've been so preoccupied with being sick. This week I've been doing a lot of reflecting, and not all of it in a good way. Much of it has been of this kind: 'on this day last year I had no idea of the tragedy that was just about to befall me'. I've learned that my body would have already been priming itself for labour it's just that I didn't know, I didn't recognise the signs. I want to go back, knowing what I now know. It feels as if any window I had to go back and change things will close once Max has been gone for a year. I won't be able to say 'this time last year he was alive' for very much longer.
I wanted to hold a gigantic memorial service for Max's birthday. In truth I want the whole world to stop, and if it wasn't going to of its own accord then I was going to create an occasion that would make people stop and remember that Max was here, and that he mattered, and that he matters still. Apart from the fact that I've been too sick to organise such an event, and that nothing I organised would have come close to matching what I had in my imagination, I also realised I'd be fighting a losing battle. Not everyone will remember Max. At least not everyone will remember Max in the way I want them to. I have to learn to accept that, for my own sake. Others, like my friends on this blog, will remember him though they have less reason to than many of the people I know in my 'real' life.
So instead of a statewide celebration, Leslie and I are holding a small BBQ at a pretty park not far from our house. I don't just want it to be a BBQ, but I don't know how to make sure that Max is included. It doesn't feel right to have party items or first birthday balloons, though I'd like him to have those. Perhaps I should just take a few of his special things, get a few balloons that I could release skyward. How do you have a 'celebration' that is not a celebration, but something quite different? Something bittersweet?
"It feels as if any window I had to go back and change things will close once Max has been gone a year. I won' be able to say 'this time last year he was alive' for very much longer." This is precisely how I feel about A's year too. And I can't call it her birthday; it's all wrong. I'm glad you're planning something special for Max. I hope it is a beautiful day.
ReplyDeleteI think you are honoring him in a beautiful way. You are brave. Reaching out and asking people to participate in this special day leaves you open for a lot of disappointment. I commend you for boldly celebrating his life in such a beautiful way.
ReplyDeleteI too would struggle with the details....what to *do* exactly as this isn't marking the happiest of times, but honoring the biggest gift in your life to date.
I do hope people understand your love, and your strength as his parents.
The one year mark is very, very difficult. It isn't necessarily about a birthday but, like you said, more of the significance of having lived without him an entire year and the "closing" of that chapter.
ReplyDeleteYour BBQ sounds like a lovely way to commemorate Max's life and to encourage people to actively and openly remember him.
Wishing things had turned out differently and that Max was here in the flesh with you.