Theo's birthday is less than two weeks away. This is the first year that we are not throwing a party and I thought I was completely fine with that. Until the past few days.
I've been waking in the middle of the night from wild dreams. I ordered the groundstone for my dad's grave, a process that has taken a couple of weeks, numerous sketches, long distance phone conversations while hiding in my closet, as if Sully really cares what I'm talking about. It has been just over a year since his memorial and burial, but I couldn't bring myself to start this final process until recently. And I'm sure this is the reason for my sleep visions.
In my dream he's still alive. I can see his smile. He compliments my handbag, asks me where I got it. And then he's gone. I wake.
It sounds dark and sad. It's just a dream. Because really, just one year past, I miss him a lot but I'm also acutely aware of the extra layer of myself that has been released, a taut layer of worry. I always worried about him so much.
And then, because I'm wide awake in the middle of the night with no bird's prattle outside my window to calm my nerves, I lie awake and think about the birthday party that is not. So last night I decided that this was just plain silly. Just because we didn't invite friends and create a special event, the day is still hugely special--you don't turn six every day--and there will be a celebration, indeed.
He wants to go to Chuck E Cheese. His aunt and cousins will be in town. He asked me to bake him a cake with a real Hot Wheels car on top. And even though it will only be for family this year, there will be a party.
I'm on it.