Earlier this month I went through what I normally go through at this time of the year. I look at the calendar and think: oh, yeah: it's August. I should be planning Ezra's (fill-in-the-blank) birthday party (this year, he'd be turning 6). Believe it or not, every year I've had a party theme. This year I was thinking Angry Birds, because that is what a lot of 6-year-olds are into. Alas, I never get to actually plan the party because Ezra isn't alive. He isn't turning 6 and having a themed birthday party for him would just be creepy (IMO! Not judging anyone who might do that for their loved ones who are no longer here). Then, I get sad. Because it's hard not to celebrate the birth of your child as each year passes. And it does seem to get worse with each year.
It is not as though we ever let the day pass without doing something. We have traditions to commemorate the day: baking a sweet treat; singing Happy Birthday (ok, slightly creepy); and releasing balloons (usually the number of the age he'd be turning....not sure how long this one will last). Some years, like this one, we sprinkle some ashes in a special place. So, even if we can't celebrate with a party, we can acknowledge our son's birth. He's gone, but he's still an important part of our family. And, so, we celebrate him.
Happy Birthday, Ezra James. We love you and miss you so much.
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