Birthday

Colby's 25th birthday is (would be) a week from today. I have found that if I become anxious in days leading up to a special event such as this I get through the day fairly well. If not, then I am a mess the entire day, and in the days that follow the big day. It's too early to tell which way this day will go. If I had a choice, I'd prefer the anxious days ahead of Colby's birthday. Not that there isn't anxiety in all my days now. There is, but "special days" make it worse. Then again, if I had a choice, I'd prefer to take Colby to the restaurant of his choice for dinner.

When Colby was a child, he had birthday parties at home where the kids would ride our horse, Snoqualmie. Or, we'd go to Chuck-E-Cheese, or play miniature golf. Colby was really into miniature golf there for a while. As he got older his interest in miniature golf spurred the idea that he could whack golf balls from our front yard, across the road and into the playground of the school yard beyond. I was terrified that he'd smash a ball into a car, or even worse, a driver, so I stopped him whenever I found him enjoying that particular activity. He never did hit anything, though . . . that I am aware of.

It is hard for me to imagine Colby at twenty-five, even though he was almost twenty-four when he passed. On his birthday it will have been fourteen months and five days since he's been gone. I often wonder how Colby would be different today than fourteen months ago? What would his latest interest be? What new topic would bring about passionate  conversation? While I miss everything about him, I miss our conversations the most. We spoke almost every day and he always said something that made me look at people or the world in a different way. I miss that and hate that with his passing I now look at the world through a thick, gray filter. I wish that gray-ish view was a choice. I wish I could alter it, but it is a permanent presence that, for now, is unchanging.

I will do something to honor Colby on his birthday. Maybe on his birth hour of 1:12 p.m. I am not yet sure what that will be, so I hope "some thing" will turn into a "specific thing" between now and then. I still think it is terribly sad that our world keeps parents here without their children. I wish I lived in a world where parents were always the ones to go first. I wish no parent had to continue on without his or her child.