It’s that day again. His birthday. Another one where he’s not here. For a long time, these days were just… tough. Really tough. Like a weight I couldn’t shake off, no matter what I did. I’d try to just get through it, you know? Keep busy, pretend it was any other day. But that never really worked. It just felt like I was bottling things up even more.
Finding My Own Way
Over the years, I guess I started to figure some things out. Or maybe, I just got tired of the dread. I realized I didn’t want his birthday to be a day of pure sadness anymore. It didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have wanted that. So, I started, bit by bit, to try and change how I approached it. It wasn’t some grand plan, just small steps.
Here’s kinda what I do now. It’s my little ritual, my way of marking the day and remembering him properly.
First thing, when I wake up, I just take a moment. Quietly. No phone, no distractions. I just think about him. Not about him being gone, but about him. Funny things he said, stupid stuff we did. Good memories. Sometimes a little smile, sometimes a tear. It’s all part of it, I’ve learned.
Then, later in the day, I try to do something he would’ve loved. Or something we used to do together. Sometimes it’s simple. Like, I’ll put on some music he was really into. Man, he had some questionable taste sometimes, but it always makes me chuckle. Other times, if I can, I’ll go for a walk in a place he liked. Just me and my thoughts. It’s not about making a big show of anything. It’s personal.
I also found that talking about him helps. Not in a sad way, necessarily. I might call up my folks, or another sibling, or an old friend of his. We’ll share a story or two. Just remembering the good times, the laughs. It makes him feel present, even though he’s not. We used to just avoid bringing him up on his birthday, thinking it would make everyone upset. But actually, sharing those memories out loud? It’s way better.
Sometimes, I’ll even write him a little note. Nothing fancy. Just jot down what I’m feeling, what’s new, what I miss. I don’t send it anywhere, obviously. It’s just for me. A way to get it out. It’s surprising how much that helps. Like a conversation, in a way.
How It Feels Now
Doing these things, it hasn’t made the missing him go away. Of course not. That never changes. But it’s changed the day itself. It’s less about the gaping hole he left, and more about celebrating the time we had. It’s made his birthday a day of remembrance, sure, but also a day of a different kind of love. A quieter kind, maybe. But still strong.
It’s not perfect. Some years are still harder than others. Grief is like that, isn’t it? Comes in waves. But having this little routine, this way of marking his day with intention, it’s given me a way to navigate it. It’s my way of saying, “Hey, I remember you. I miss you. And happy birthday, brother. Wherever you are.” And somehow, that makes it a little bit more bearable. A little bit brighter.
