These last few weeks, I've been traveling a lot. I flew three times in one month: to my aunt's funeral in Washington, to Nuevo Vallarta for a family vacation, and then to Windsor, CA for a wedding. I have been ridiculously busy trying to manage my life, house, and classroom since I've been gone so much.
I consciously knew that my birthday had passed (it was the same day as my aunt's funeral) and that October was right around the corner, which also means Jeff's birthday is approaching, but with all the travel and birthdays (in the month of September and October combined there are at least 8) the days have been whizzing by. The other night while lying in bed, I was thinking about making brownies for a friend of mine who's birthday is this week and had a moment of panic.
It's Jeff's birthday next week!
A bunch of emotions flooded through me: sadness that he's not here, guilt that I haven't been preparing myself for his birthday and that it caught me by surprise, then confusion because I had a hard time figuring out how old he is, and then guilt again because I didn't know his age immediately.
When Jeff was alive, and for a few years after he was gone, we had an annual tradition of going to Las Vegas for October birthdays with all of our friends. As we've gotten older and people started families, it became more and more difficult to organize those annual trips so we haven't gone for the last couple of years. Without that tangible reminder and preparation, I experienced a sense of panic because I feel like I almost forgot Jeff's birthday.
I know I didn't forget it, but it's the idea that I could have. It's ridiculous to think that because I don't think I will ever forget his birthday, but because it's not something that was on the forefront of my mind with all of the travel and just life in general consuming me, I think I ultimately feel guilty that I'm living and he's not.
I get this overwhelming sense of guilt that my life is really great. I'm enjoying friends and family, watching my twin nieces hit milestones and grow, making home improvements, going on vacations, and living with Wyoming I'm doing all of these things and living this wonderful life all without Jeff. Survivor's guilt, maybe?
While I was lying in bed and trying to figure out how old Jeff is, (I actually had to do the math, which made me feel terrible), I had this visceral feeling that I was cheating on Jeff while Wyoming was lying in bed next to me. I actually scooted away from him and thought about getting up. I had to remind myself that I'm not doing anything wrong, but I felt like I was. I felt like I was betraying Jeff.
I managed to recover relatively quickly, but those feelings of cheating on Jeff still pop up occasionally. I took a big breath, sighed deeply, and felt a little better. Then I spoke to Jeff and told him how much I loved and missed him. I actually called him an old man since he's nearing his mid-forties, which made me smile because I would have definitely been calling him old if he was still here today.
Jeff will always be a part of my life, he will never leave me, and I know he wants me to be happy and continue to live.
Sometimes when I say those things, I'm not actually sure if I believe them or if I just say them because I know I'm supposed to.
I will always hate cancer for making me a widow.
