The year of “firsts” is now
over. The big “firsts”… first birthday, first Christmas, first summer without
her, and some of the unexpected firsts, the ones that just keep coming, the ones that wear
your soul down… the first time I didn’t set her place at the table for a family
dinner, the first time I ventured out in public as the woman who had lost a
child and the first time I answered “one” when asked how many children I have.
One of the big “firsts” is about
to become a second. Next month we will celebrate Kirsten’s birthday without her
for the second time. Last year we celebrated her birthday just over a month
after her passing. It was as nice a party as it could be without her actually being there.
All of our family and friends
were there, and all of Kirsten’s friends, even a couple of the Shippensburg
friends. I baked a chocolate cake with chocolate icing and put a number 1
candle and a number 9 candle on it. I wanted to make the cake myself, it was a
motherly duty I could still do for her. There were beautiful flower arrangements, so
kindly sent to us for the occasion and Kirsten’s friends decorated the house
with pink and blue streamers.
The food was from one of Kirsten’s favorite places, Royal Bakery. There were two 5 foot subs and assorted pastries. When I picked up the food, I took a picture of the heart and initials that Kirsten had drawn on the wall behind one of the booths. Others had added notes to it since the accident. The new management has since painted over it.
The food was from one of Kirsten’s favorite places, Royal Bakery. There were two 5 foot subs and assorted pastries. When I picked up the food, I took a picture of the heart and initials that Kirsten had drawn on the wall behind one of the booths. Others had added notes to it since the accident. The new management has since painted over it.
After we ate, all of the people
who had gotten a tattoo in Kirsten’s honor gathered outside for a picture.
There were 12 of us. There are several other people with Kirsten tattoos that
aren’t in the picture. When I’m afraid that her friends will one day forget
her, I think of those tattoos.
We sang Happy Birthday and
blew out the candles. That was when I lost it. I hid my face against Kenny’s
shoulder and sobbed. Everything about this was just SO WRONG.
Then we went out back and released about 50 pink balloons with handwritten messages on them. They floated up toward a bright blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. Mine said, “Happy Birthday, Kiki. I love you, Mom :-)
It was a perfect spring day and the sight of all those balloons drifting away from the people who had been holding them was very moving. As the balloons passed the treetops, escaping our grasps forever, I noticed Kirsten’s friend, Cami, start to cry.