It was OUR birthday yesterday

Still ours, even if it’s just me now.

It’s funny, I used to say words like, OUR, US, WE. It was OUR birthday; WE have 3 brothers — and then there was US. But now, it’s just ME. These words feel heavier without her, like a reminder of all that’s changed—and all I still carry with me.

I remember when Brenda first passed; I thought I’d start to feel better in a couple of months, or maybe six months. But time marched on, so I had no choice but to continue changing the timeline. Waiting to feel better.

But that’s not how it works.

First, there should never be a timeline for grief. And more importantly, there is no such thing as ‘getting over it’. Grief is not something you conquer or leave behind. It becomes your constant companion, your partner. Something to be accepted with grace and gratitude. And now you’ve got to make room in your heart for your new partner.

It turns out that grief doesn’t disappear with time. No, grief settles in quietly and lives within you — a constant reminder that you were lucky enough to have loved so deeply. And let’s face it: I was lucky. And that love is still there, even if it’s quieter now.

I have also learned, with grief comes gratitude.

How lucky was I having a twin sister who shared most everything with me? She was my confidante, my best friend, my sister. I have to remember that not everyone has had that kind of bond. I had 66 (almost 67) years with her — plus those first glorious nine months together.

It’s a different world now, learning to live without her. Loss is never easy—for anyone. I know I’m not alone in this; Brenda’s friends and family feel the ache of her absence, too. Together, we’ve had to make room in our hearts for this loss, just as we have for others we’ve endured along the way.

Thankfully, our hearts are always expanding.

So, with my deep sadness comes the gratitude. And maybe, hopefully, a bit more compassion for those walking through life, silently living with their own suffering.

I can almost hear Bren’s voice right now — “Oh stop it, Deb! You’re being too sensitive. You’re supposed to be funny.” And I can’t help but reply with —“well easy for you, you’re on the other side, enjoying your bleeping life without a care in the world. How lucky are you, huh??!!”

Can’t you just hear that cackle of hers right now? So distinctive — full of life, and fun. It was the kind of laugh that could light up a room and make everyone else laugh, even if they didn’t know what was funny.

The more I look for the funny, the funnier life becomes; the more I look for the joy, the more joyful I feel. Maybe that’s the lesson—allowing myself to feel joy again, to embrace happiness even without Brenda here. Because I know she’d want me to live a happy life, no matter how hard it gets. After all, life is about finding those little moments of joy that will become deeper and more lasting, and holding onto them, no matter what.

Life may not always be easy, but it’s full of reasons to smile - and kiss.