The Bloody Doors Off

So I’ve been wrestling with this for a while, and I think I finally understand why.

I’m coming up on my 52nd birthday. Which shouldn’t be a big deal. But it is.

See, two years ago, my family had planned a surprise 50th birthday party for me. It was to take place near the actual day, friends and family were already invited.

And then my mom passed away unexpectedly. The only day we could feasibly hold the wake was on October 13th, which was, yup, the day I turned 50.

Understand, I harbour no anger or ill will at my mum’s passing. I’m sad she’s no longer with us, of course. I miss her every day, and wish she could be at the wedding in November. In a sense, I believe she will be there.

But see, my brothers promise I’ll still get that surprise party.

It hasn’t happened, nor will it this year. Promises continue to be made that it will take place.

And I want to believe them. I do. But I’ve been disappointed that it hasn’t.

It took me until just now to understand why.

Several years ago, and by several I mean close to two decades now, I’d booked a trip to backpack through Ireland, London, and Amsterdam. I’d been in Dublin for maybe 3 days when I got a note tacked to my hostel door asking me to call home urgently. I’d been living with Suzi then, and her father, who had stage 4 cancer, had taken a turn for the worse. Without hesitation I flew home on the first available flight so I could be there at his end.

I’ve never regretted that decision.

Still don’t.

But back then, I’d made a promise to myself to finish that trip in the future.

And I haven’t.

Every year I think to myself, This is the year I do it. And then the year passes.

It’s disappointing. And I realize now that, with my diabetes and sleep apnea, and depression & anxiety, I can no longer plan that same trip. Backpacking is out of the question.

So the trip is officially on the shelf, to be admired as a lovely idea, but will probably never happen.

That’s the same feeling I have about the birthday party.

My love has reminded me, “you have others who can celebrate your birthday too”. And she’s right. But we have a wedding to plan for, and certainly don’t need the address stress of planning to celebrate my birth.

So I put that on the shelf too.

It just feels… incomplete.

And if I’m totally honest, I’m worried something will happen to disrupt the wedding as well. Ridiculous, I know. But it feels like every major event in my life gets postponed

Which also explains my obsessive need to check the wedding website every half hour to see if anyone else has RSVP’d. Because, more than anything, I want to marry this woman, and I want our friends and family to celebrate this milestone with us.

I’m hoping that, by writing this and exploring these feelings, I will take control of it and learn to let go. To just enjoy the moments as they come.

If only I didn’t feel so damned selfish about it all.