Yesterday was my birthday. I entered my 7th decade, it was my second birthday without Rick.
To be honest I don't remember much at all about my last birthday. I made it through, that was my goal and I was successful.
Turning 70 is surreal, not the aging part but it was such a milestone birthday that the two of us always talked about. Rick would have been 70 last year, I know we would have celebrated in some form or fashion but it would have been different because of covid.
Yesterday I thought about him most of the day. Life has changed in so many ways, yet much has remained the same. The dogs and I walk daily, the chickens are still my girls and spring is arriving on the farm. The redbuds are blooming, the dogwoods are budding, every day brings a different shade of green.
I have worked the beds, cleaned all the planters and containers, pruned fruit trees, cleared the fence line and ordered seed.
Friends called, texted, sent cards yesterday, family members dropped by. I felt much love and gratitude, yet the feeling of emptiness stayed with me. I just miss him. The pain is not unbearable any more, just nagging, always that little twinge that has become a part of me like my blue eyes.
My mom traveled constantly after my father died. It was her way of dealing with the twinge. I am fortunate to have friends who live all over the globe and in their infinite kindness they issue invitations to visit. Before Rick died, all I wanted to do was travel, now it is such a difficult thing to think about.
This farm has become my security blanket, the last threads of a life that was not perfect, but content.
Building courage to continue new things daily is exhausting, finding direction and purpose is painful, like being born again. This freedom, thrust upon me by the death of a lifelong partner is nothing that I asked for but it is the hand I have been given. The responsibility of it is heavy and the choices are not easy. Life continues to go on. Sharing my birthday selfie.