Number 192

 Happy (Melancholy) Birthday

Memory is a funny thing. Nothing profound about that, I know, but I gotta start somewhere. I can remember minor details of things that happened half a century ago, but I can also walk from one room to another and have no fucking clue as to what I intended to do when I arrived. Again, nothing profound there. This is a common topic of discussion among folks my approximate age. Another frustration is those moments that you'd love to erase from your memory banks, but your brain stubbornly holds onto every single detail. Like when your wife suddenly dies on you over a 24 hour time period.

The particular memory that prompted this post comes from that awful time. It was the moment that Rebecca and I first realized that she needed to get to the hospital posthaste. Initially I was going to transport her myself, but we quickly realized the her level of pain was above my pay grade. A call to 911 ensued. 

(Before I proceed, I want you to know that it's okay to laugh at the end of this story)

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My wife is ill, and she needs an ambulance to take her to the hospital"

"What's your wife's name?" I told them.

"What seems to be the problem?" I did my best to tell them concisely what's going on.

"How old is she?" 

(If you didn't already know, here's the deal. Rebecca robbed the cradle when we got together - or I went cougar hunting - you decide. She was 5 and a half years older than me. Scandalous, I know. In reality, the only time it made a real difference was when we compared the cultural high points of our respective childhoods. In practical terms, it meant that sometimes she was five years older than me, and sometimes she was six years older. Usually, I was able to quickly do the required math to answer the question the 911 operator had just asked, but there was nothing 'usual' about this particular moment.)

"Uhh... 56." I replied.

"55!" Came an annoyed shout from our bedroom.

(end scene)

It was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and February 14 (the day she passed), is quickly approaching. Since her death, holidays, anniversaries, and other assorted family celebrations always have a tinge of sadness about them because she's not there. Again, nothing particularly unique for any folks managing the grief of losing a loved one, but still... In any event, I was standing in the shower this morning thinking sad thoughts when the significance of my recent birthday revealed itself to me. You see, folks, it was my 56th birthday.