Bittersweet Birthday

Most of the time we think of our son, Austin, as forever 14, since that was our last birthday with him, in 2008.  He passed just four months later.

Yet, as our youngest grows, we are forced to wonder what Austin would look like at the age he would now be.  And his birthday is always a day to reflect on who how things might be if he were still here.

I've never really known how to celebrate his birthday as he's no longer with us.  While we want to acknowledge the life we shared, it is hard to feel joyful when the loss is so present.  July 8 will always be bittersweet.

Family has only gathered on his birthday once, on what would've been his 16th.  All other years his day has been quietly observed by just the three of us.  Never knowing how one of us might feel, this has been somewhat simpler, though at times makes me sad.

The first birthday after we planted a tree in his memory and it has continued to grow, showering down cascades of beautiful red blooms - always the week of July 8.  Other years we have spent the day in nature, sent up balloons or paper lanterns, visited a ballpark, and painted rocks for kids to find.  Often, we will donate something in the amount of his age.  On his 21st, Noah paid for 21 snow cones at a local summer shack.  This year, we donated to a fundraiser for a family that suffered a recent tragedy.  Just small ways to keep his memory alive.

Every year we are sent sweet signs - hugs from above we call them, where we strongly feel his presence or something will remind of us him.  We feel it is Austin's way of saying hello and he loves us.  This year was no different.

His birthday fell on a Sunday so we went to church as normal, though I'm always worried about public outings on such a trigger-filled occasion.  Noah actually declined going, for what I thought to be the work week catching up to him at the time.  Tim and I, along with my mom, wore "Austin shirts" - matching Ts we had made after losing him and a way to raise funds for his scholarship fund.  And it didn't take five minutes for someone to make a snide remark, not realizing the symbolism to why we wore them.  So Tim sat steaming during worship, as tears fell for me.  ...Not quite the way I wanted to start the service.

But as we sat, the needed whispers came bringing peace to still us.

The pastor announced good news that between VBS and a mission trip, 14 kids had given their hearts to Jesus.  This was over the course of a couple weeks so the timing seemed quite perfect, given it was shared on Austin's birthday.  14...Tim and I smiled knowingly at each other and settled in to hear the message.

Sometimes sermons sting, especially when you are coping with loss.  I can recall one shortly after losing him that I actually walked out -because I couldn't hear the phrase, "mom prayed hard enough to bring her back" one more time.  But this day, it was just the wording we needed. 

The title was "God WILL give you more than you can handle."

There's enough I can say about the opposite of that (and something we've been told more times than I can count) it has spurred an upcoming post for Still Standing magazine.  Stay tuned... But for now, I'll just say it was soothing to have our pastor speak to the topic on this specific day.

As we traveled out of the way for lunch, we passed a favorite spot of mine I drive by when working.  It is on a stretch of road with no available turn offs so I can only enjoy it while whizzing by.  We both commented about how beautiful it was and wanting to take a picture on the way home.  Since Tim was driving on our way back, I needed him to pass it and turn around so that I was closest to the window for a good shot.  During the U-turn I noticed the mile marker - 23.  The biggest symbolic number we have for Austin, his old jersey and favorite digits. 

We shared memories of him on our drive and noticed how all the songs seemed to be his favorites, as if he were sending a playlist for us to enjoy.  Returning home, we opted to spend the remainder of the day at rest and it seemed "ok" for a day we tread lightly each year.  

And then I realized my baby didn't go to church because the day hit him hard.  Sometimes, as parents, you are so focused on your spouse/self and the feelings you might have, you forget about how others might be dealing with grief.  For Noah, the years have seemed to grow harder as he ages.  Perhaps it is because now is the stage where he and his brother could really run around together.  Now is the stage he could be an uncle and spend time with a family that will never get to be.  Now is the stage where a young man could use the advice and quality time with a big brother.  And that breaks my heart all over again.  If you are the praying type, I would ask that you send up some for my guy in this stage of his life.  

Birthdays after loss will never be ones I look forward to but the one thing I can celebrate is knowing where Austin is.  Because all those years ago, he gave Jesus his heart too.  So until eternity where I'll see him again, I'll spend time here finding the joy in every day.