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.