Happy Birthday To Me

I turned 41 two days ago.

41.

How did I get there? Here?  How did I get to be FORTY-ONE??

I spent my day at school, had a pop quiz in biology, a test in chemistry and my English teacher taught me a way to remember the metric scale which I’ve promptly forgotten half of it (I’ll have to remember to ask her for it again)

My boys made me dinner.   We had birthday cake.

I went out to hang out with acquantences who will likely become friends.

Had a good time, played cards, had a drink or two.

Saturday morning found me up at the butt-crack of dawn… actually before the butt-crack of dawn… to drive an hour or so away to play roller derby for the day.

6 hours of skating.

A lunch date.

2 more hours of skating.

I played in a bout where I got knocked on my ass by a wicked hit to my sternum (totally legal) and I had SO much fun!!!

My body hurts from the bangover.

Overall… I had a good weekend.   So far.

But there were moments… moments of longing.  Moments of missing.  Moments of intense sadness.

I looked out in the crowd at the bout and there was no one there…. no one to cheer me on, no one to support me, no one for me to have a victory drink with after the bout.

Don’t get me wrong… there were people I knew in the crowd… but they were there to watch *derby* not cheer *Jezebelle* on (my derby name).

My husband would have been there.  My ex-boyfriend? I don’t know that he would have – he was hot & cold in his support of my hobbies/goals/dreams.

I have friends I celebrated with… and watched them go home to their spouses.  I watched them go home to their families.

That’s the part I hate most about being a widow.   Going home alone.  Combine that with the knowledge that my ex is so very close… that I would probably just have to go upstairs and tell him that I miss him, that I need him, that I want him, that I want to work things out with him… and we’d find a way…

It hurts… knowing that he’s right there.   It hurts, knowing that my love for my husband is part of what ended my relationship with the man I love now.    It hurts… knowing that I go to bed every night, starving of skin hunger… missing him incredibly (both the hims I love) and wondering if I’m ever going to be able to have a love like what I experienced again.

Happy Birthday to me.   I didn’t get a picture of me on my birthday this year.  I’m not going to.  Or maybe I will.  But right now… I’m kinda feeling sorry for myself, wishing I had him here to snuggle up to on the couch, watch a movie before I go to work, or go through my flash cards with while we drink coffee and just be together.

The loss of a love relationship after the death of a spouse is harder than just an ordinary break up.   I grieve over my 2nd chapter daily.    I miss him.  I miss my husband.  While there is so much good going on in my life, I am grieving over the loss of the future I was promised… again…

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