Musings on Laura’s Birthday

I have dreaded this day for a while ― at least since Laura’s celebration of life/Irish wake ― and probably longer than that. Those of you who knew Laura know that her birthday was a huge deal. Many of you probably remember the birthday parties I threw for her in the late 2000s, but even when it was just her and I and the cats, her birthday was still a big deal. There was always a cake ― usually yellow cake with white frosting, although I had turned her onto marble cake in the last few years. The candles and the cake never said her real age, and usually were set to be at least five years younger than her real age. Then, there were the gifts.

I’ll admit to struggling when it came to buying Laura gifts. Given her upbringing, she had expensive tastes, but I never really had the kind of budget that would allow those kinds of gifts. I am not going to list some of the things I bought her for her birthday, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day; however, needless to say, I had my share of failures. My successes often revolved around music, such as favorite albums and rock ‘n’ roll apparel. However, my greatest successes involved those little blue boxes from Tiffany’s ― as the ladies who attended Laura’s celebration can attest to.

Now, much of what Tiffany’s offers is expensive. Fortunately for me, Laura was satisfied with some of the most affordable items in the catalog like Tiffany’s-themed locks, keys and charms that could serve as necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Her charm bracelet, for example , had about eight charms on it, which meant that I was able to add onto that as a gift several times inexpensively. As such, she was generally happy with at least some of her gifts.

In addition to her birthday, September 8 ended up having additions made to it as the years rolled on. When we adopted our Turkish Angora “Shawnee” from the SPCA in North Platte (that’s in Nebraska for the uninitiated) in late October of 1998, we determined that he was about 8 weeks old when we adopted him, so we assigned his birthday to Laura’s, making it easy to remember. So, when Laura got her birthday cake, “Shawnee” and his fellow felines got canned tuna to celebrate his birthday.

Then, it the dark year of 2013, September 8 took on a new significance. I have covered in other postings how important “Ardent Blue Spike,” the Russian Blue we adopted when we were living in Coconut Grove (Miami), Florida, in 1997 was to Laura. He was probably more her soulmate than even I was. They were inseparable ― even during the time when we actually separated in 2002. I have also covered in other posts what happened to “Spike” in the summer of 2013 ― when he went into get his teeth and ears cleaned and came home having neurological damage. He took ill, which caused our oldest cat and his “wife,” Hoppy,” to develop a sympathy illness that ended up causing us to have to put her down on August 31, 2013. Then, “Spike” took a turn for the worse after “Hoppy” died and ended up passing away ― in Laura’s arms ― on her birthday. From that day on, September 8 had a dark spirit associated with it.

In fact, from that day on, Laura’s life was never really the same. All the things that happened that year ― her sister’s overdose, all four cats passing away, and her ill-fated dalliance into a bisexual relationship with that troll from New York, who beat Laura when her jealousy got the best of her, which was often. As a result, Laura was basically a shut-in during the last five-plus years of her life. An example of that are the concerts we attended. From 2008 to 2012, we averaged at least four or five major concerts per year. Since 2013, we probably attended no more than a dozen, and none since the spring of 2017.

So, despite everything, Laura’s birthday was a major checkpoint on the calendar every year. Fast forward to 2019 and I no longer know what to do. I used to spend a lot of time and effort on Laura’s birthday, and now there is nothing but an empty feeling. I’m struggling with how to honor her Sunday ― if at all. I had considered getting blind stinking drunk, which is something Laura was known to do on her birthday, but it’s just not in my DNA. There is enough alcohol here, including Defiant whiskey (Laura’s favorite) to drown my sorrows 10 or 20 times over, but I am not feeling it. I had thought about getting a birthday cake that says something like “Happy Birthday in Heaven, Laura” on it, but that would just be eating my feelings. Chances are I’ll do nothing, which is pretty much what I do when I don’t force myself to do stuff. Maybe I’ll go through some more of her stuff to bag up to throw away or box up to donate. I’ve been putting it off because I can’t make myself do it, but it’s gotta be done.

I miss you, Laura ― everyday. Terribly. I wake up every day mad. Not mad because I woke up ― I don’t have a death wish or desire to harm myself. I wake up mad because I know I have to face the day without my partner by my side. I hope she’s gotten everything she wanted from the afterlife because what she has left in her wake is no fun. Ain’t no Sunshine when she’s gone – truer words were never sung.