Birthdays, as is change, is unwarranted and part of the messily packaged decor we call life. Some call it vida for a little extra flavor, yet it's still here. Whether it's an anniversary of an event, an eventful celebration or a celebration of life, it's rallied in such a way that makes you cry with sorrow or simply cry because you are feeling EMOTION.
When my birthday creeps up on me, I usually want nothing to do with it. I'd rather skim through my day as if it were just another day of insignificance and annoyance. This entire year thus far (and for many years), I want nothing more than to acknowledge each significant day with my brother in sight. But since this is nearly impossible (and I say that because I like to think almost anything is possible, lol) I keep him alive instead. I live my life as though he were here. As I walk into the house I announce, "I'm home, Charley" so that I don't startle him or myself. And I walk straight to his room in hopes of seeing his face. It never fails; he's never home.
This year, as we've snailed through holidays and get together's, Charley's birthday reached for us like an angelic hand from the sky. It asked us to bind to one another in an effort to morph him into a love we may see with our minds and our strengths. Knowing that Sunday, July 13th would be a day my Mom would scour the day for him, she suggested we take a few days for ourselves to honor him...as though a getaway together would soften the birthday blow.
To a rented beach cottage we went- tears sealed tightly into jars for later use and beach towels to wipe our bodies of sand and wrap ourselves as the sun sets and evening life swifts in. We trudged into the four-day home of our family minus the one boastful voice and presence our unit is missing. Effort was our goal and serenity was our target. Try as we might, it was as though we were talking and living about one another without talking and living about WHY we were there. But it seemed normal, relieving almost- to breathe without crying and to privately birthday-bash without blurred vision and cake.
As a family, we decided to invite friends and family over to the house for a birthday party for my brother. After all, he is a life to celebrate, glorify and magnify with his spiritual presence intact and love overflowing from everyone in attendance. And man, did people show up! We were touched and floored that the turnout was as abundant as it was seamless. Fire reserves who'd become his close friends, extended family whom we rarely see, our own personal friends and neighbors---ALL of which moved about his home with respect and adoration.
"You're such a cool sister," someone told me. "Don't hate me for saying this, but he's dead, and you live as though he's here and honor him as you do. You keep him alive. I love it". I blushed with pride and found comfort in those words because my brother Charley thinks I'm cool, too.
So cool, that I ordered 37 cupcakes to signify the 37 years he would've turned that day. I placed a sparkler candle in each one and passed them out so that they could be individually held. When I gathered everyone in the backyard to sing "Happy Birthday", my hands shook with anxiety and I prayed I could get through a yearly verse of the song. Eyes cast downward and surrounded by smiles of mixed emotion, we sang loudly and purely. Happy Birthday Dear Charley, Happy Birthday to you! Candles were blown out and I made a beeline for the house. Into the bedroom I scurried with a cupcake in my hand, the smell of a well-it candle and the taste of salt trickling into my mouth. I stood facing the mirror in complete solace with the blinds drawn and the sound of laughter and party just 10 feet away. My eyes were Charley's eyes. I paced and watched him. Deep breath. Happy Birthday, bro. Happy Birthday.
Shaking still, I wiped my face and returned to a party that will last an entire year.
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