Happy Un-Birthday

My birthday falls a few days after Luke's death date.
It’s too soon to celebrate anything , especially myself.
It’s hard for others to celebrate me, because they know I am ambivalent.

I often wonder if, like the queen, I should have an ‘official’ birthday on another date, at a time when I give a shit. But when?

Each year brings a natural break to this malaise.
This year the bounce back is elusive, who knows why… maybe because I can not find my tears?
An enormous explosion of sobbing has for years, been the normal route.
Not this year.

But then, it happens…
Courtesy of the abysmal international postal system, birthday cards arrive all at once, very late for my birthday but just in time for me to be able to feel..

The customary fabulousness from my dear friend Kim, the queen of finding the perfect card, unleashes a roar from within and I hear myself laugh out loud for the first time in a while.
Bodil’s package arrives too, filled with tiny and exotic treats, hand made cards from her and her delicious daughters and homemade lingonberry dust that she has created from the berries they pick from the Swedish forest. I am transported to that hallowed ground by it’s earthy fragrance and sharpness to the tongue.
I sprinkle the dust on my yoghurt and savor it as I behold behold my array glorious cards in contented solitude.
I feel loved and celebrated.
The timing is perfect.

I can’t ever tell you what I need when this month falls…
because I have no idea of the what, the when or the how.
It’s exhausting for all.

Yet, once again, things work out perfectly.
I am smiling as I write.