Today is Z’s birthday. She would have been 19 today.
Today also marks exactly 9 weeks since she has passed.
It’s the first “first” for me. The first time she’s not here for a big event.
I used to love the location of my girl’s birthdays on the calendar. Z’s falls in late October, then mine and then X’s in early November. Then the holiday rush. Our birthdays ushered us into the celebration season. It was a fun way to kick off the end of year festivities.
This year, instead of the start of the end of the year, it’s the first first for me. For my parents. For my remaining (other?) daughter. For my SO. For all of us. We’ve lost the luster.
There really isn’t much to say today. Today is all guttural emotion that bubbles into an anguish and pain that is so deep and harsh that it’s primal. There isn’t much to say because there are no words.
I’ve spent the morning sitting at my desk hiding my literal tears behind paperwork. I ugly cried in the bathroom. I took an early lunch and read Facebook and cried more.
I’ll have to do this again at Halloween. Then Thanksgiving. Then Christmas. Then New Year. Then pull into 2018 with more firsts.
Today she should have been 19.