So here we come up on 2 years since Shawn killed himself.

My birthday again - number 42.

Last year I remember being so concerned with what my birthday would be like and how to reclaim the day as my own.

This year I feel very...blase.  Very unusual for me who has relished each and every birthday as something exciting and special.

My family keeps asking me, "What do you want for your birthday?".  I have no answer.  For the first time in my life I have nothing I "want" for my birthday.

I know this happens to many people as they grown older - they just quit caring about their birthday - so maybe that is all it is.  Or maybe this year will be like that and next year will be something different again.

Lily asked me again last night what I want for my birthday and indicated she was running out of time to do something.  She commented that last year I just "cried all day" and that we "didn't do anything special" for me.  That isn't exactly how I remember it.  Sure, I had a melt down when no one could possibly make my birthday special and perfect enough to make up for what a hard day it was.  But everything turned out okay and we had a cake and they sang "Happy Birthday".

Earlier in the summer I had thought about throwing myself a big party with friends but then I ran out of...time and apparently desire.

Maybe not wanting the day to be a big deal is my way of not creating unrealistic expectations that will be only let down?  Maybe it is my way of trying to take the power of his death away from a certain day that is loaded with "shoulds" of how one should feel ("We should be sad, this is the day that Daddy/Shawn died" or "We should be happy and joyous, it's Mom's birthday."). 

It really is just another day like any other.  I am not actually a year older on August 29th - I am really just one day older than I was on August 28th.  Shawn is not actually dead a year longer on August 29th - he is still dead, just one day longer than he was on August 28th.

As for what I want...hugs.