Paula's Birthday

I must admit that I faced Paula's birthday on Saturday with a great deal of trepidation. I didn't know how to mark this day. Part of me wanted to celebrate her life, but another part didn't want to face the pain of what I have lost. Part of me wanted to just not do anything at all, but this would not honour Paula. Part of me wanted to just be alone. Part of me wanted to be with people so that I wouldn't be alone.

After breakfast, I got our bike and bike trailer out of the basement, pumped up the tires, and Micah and I set out for a long bike ride along the canal and river to the cemetary. We were blessed with a warm sunny day. We spent an hour at Paula's grave. I was expecting it to be very somber, but Micah was full of exuberance. This was a gift to me.

As Micah napped in the afternoon, I poured through photo albums of my life with Paula. It brought back many happy memories, but again, great sadness at the depth of our loss. We miss her so much. In the evening we had a small gathering of friends and had a barbeque. Afterwards, my brother and sister-in-law took me out for a beer.

Thank you to all who called or sent me an email to encourage me on this difficult day.

Today, Micah and I went out biking after supper to a waterfall, gushing with the spring thaw. Micah was in awe, as was I.

I love this kid. I miss his mother.

Birthdays and Firsts

(from Paula's brother Stephen)

I love April. Spring consumes April. April’s vowel is the first letter in the alphabet. With five simple letters it stands alone, undivided as a prime. However, this year April holds two painful distinctions: birthdays and the preface to the final chapter of a year that leads to the anniversary of Paula’s untimely death.

Tomorrow marks eleven months since Paula’s passing. I’m at a loss as how to navigate the coming weeks. Weeks that house Paula’s birthday - in four days; my birthday - in thirteen days; and the anniversary of her death, again, in thirty days.

The coming month also marks the end of a year with the most “traditional” firsts without her. The first Noel came and went, first New Year, first Easter, Halloween and first every other normally benign calendar day that may contain an email or “hi, it’s me” on the other end of the telephone line. And, most importantly, Micah’s first birthday. The pending three dates mark the unwanted triad of primaries that will be the most personal to surpass.

Our parents, for most the part, always combined our birthdays, as we are nine days apart, and that simple gesture belies the woven and natural depth of the camaraderie and adoration that I shared with Paula. Although, funny enough, once out of the nest, neither one of us ever sent a greeting to each other that arrived on time – I guess we just knew we had the whole month to ourselves.

Thirty days from now will likely be consumed with the greatest isolation and sorrow, and will surely bare down with unflinching, painful precision. But our two days this month contain some of my happiest personal memories. And so, in a year of painful firsts, I still love and find hope in April.

Happy Birthday Paula - I miss and love you.

Love letters

Today was a beautiful, warm, sunny spring day, hopefully the end of this long winter. After our traditional Saturday morning pancake breakfast with the Patricks, Micah and I went to the Central Experimental Farm and hung out with the farm animals. Micah loves animals, although he was a bit timid around the real life ones.

While Micah napped this afternoon, I sat outside in the sun on my balcony with a cup of coffee and read through the box of letters and cards that Paula and I had exchanged over the years (Paula was a pack-rat!). I have not had the courage to do this until today. I am not even sure why I did it today.

The first year of our relationship was long-distance, so there were a lot of letters (and emails which are now unfortunately lost) exchanged between us. The memories which reading these letters evoked were overwhelming.

Here are two things I want to share.

In her very first letter to me, Paula wrote:
“I should tell you now (since I am planning to write to you again!)… I tend to use a lot of exclamation marks – I try not to, but I can’t help it!” (August 26, 1996)

This sums up Paula’s contagious enthusiasm and energy that she was renowned for, something that she just couldn’t help but have. I miss this so much.

In a letter to her, I wrote:
“I really feel like I have been blessed in my life - a great family, awesome friends, so many opportunities – but it kind of scares me in a way. I’ve never had to struggle… I’ve never been really disappointed… I’ve never had doors close on me. I just wonder if it will ever come crashing down on me?” (March 23, 1997)

Unfortunately it did.
In a way that I don’t think I could have ever imagined then.