03 Nov A complicated birthday

Birthdays are complicated for me. Before Mum passed away last year, they were a source of great joy. We had our rituals: the phone calls, the prayers, the same joke she would crack every year. Today, as I celebrate another year, I hold a complex set of emotions. I am, of course, grateful to be alive. Grateful for God’s kindness in granting me yet another year. Yet that sweetness is surrounded by the bitterness of survivor’s guilt. Why am I still here and she not? What’s the point of milestones if she’s not here to see them? What will a normal birthday even look like now?

There’s a part of me desperate to move on, while that same part never wants to leave that hospital bed. What if I forget it? Should I even want to move forward? This is a glimpse into the web of thoughts I find myself tangled in today.

In all these thoughts, one thing remains clear: I had the most unfair advantage in life, having had the most compassionate, intentional, loving, and pure woman by my side for so long. She left no corner of doubt in my mind—she loved me. She taught me who I am. She told me life is for living and urged me to chase my dreams. She believed in me and nurtured every idea I ever shared with her. She was, and will always be, the most beautiful woman in the world. I was so looking forward to introducing everyone to her.

I dedicate this birthday to my forever best friend. As hard as this is to write, I will live in your memory. I will chase my dreams. I will build new traditions and routines. I will do everything I promised to do. I will make you proud.

I love you. And happy birthday to me.