There's a lot of pressure that society imposes on making "The Big Four-Oh"a uniquely special birthday.
My mother-in-law, the eternal optimist who always makes me smile, sent me a text this morning that said "Well, be glad you don't have to plan a 40th for him....Can you imagine the guest list?!" True, so true. I got out of that one.
Since Ryan has now been gone for 4 years, I can't exactly ask him what he wants, but I can exactly say that I know the answer in my heart and mind. That simple yet profound realization today made me smile again. The hard part here, as with most really good birthday ideas, is the execution.
Looking back, I can say that through a sense of urgency that I felt to heal after Ryan's death, I made many of my life choices based NOT on what Ryan would truly want for me or my children, but based on what would bring us back to feeling a sense of normalcy as quickly as possible. I think it's instinctual for a mother to act this way. And everyone around me has always responded to any life decision I have made with "I know Ryan would just want you to be happy." But, what I failed to realize is that I wasn't really happy, I was just trying to not feel sad and at the same time, make everyone else happy, hoping that their happiness would be enough. It wasn't selfish in nature and on the contrary- I thought I was being selfless. With 20/20 hindsight, I realize I was just naive.
People wear a nervous smile when I talk about 'what Ryan would do or want' or how much I miss him. That's because the nervous smiles don't understand what we had when he was alive. I sometimes missed that man when he was sitting in the same room as me because I knew that he would soon be somewhere else. I couldn't process the few moments we had alone without thinking about the fact that it was guaranteed to end soon. Most military wives feel the same. It's not wrong, it's due to the situation at hand. I liked spending time with Ryan. I wanted every night to be date night and so did he (when he wasn't off saving the world).
So, when I say that I want to do what Ryan would do, on his 40th Birthday or any day really, it isn't because I'm living like some crazy widow and putting my dead husband's wishes before my own...it's because we wanted the same thing. I wanted to make him happy, he wanted to make me happy.
So my gift to him as fittingly narcissistic as it may sound (Ryan was quite the narcissist), is to make myself happy. Only then, can I make everyone else (my children included) happy, right? How can I expect my children to grow up watching me float through space trying to please everyone while on the contrary, preaching to them that they should be true to themselves and never settle for less than they want out of life? It would be poor parenting. They would grow up thinking 'poor mom just did what she could, given her situation', but I'd know it wasn't the best that I could have done with my life or theirs.
Life sets everyone on a certain road. We don't get to pick the position from which we start and sometimes we don't get to pick the position from which we start over. Some people will choose not to drive themselves down life's road but to jump on public transportation, or into the family car, or maybe some will just jump right into speeding traffic. I choose to walk down the double yellow line demonstrating my teetering sense of balance with my eyes wide open but blinded by a faith in myself and in the universe that everything really is going to be okay. We have a desire, but not a true need to know what is going to happen tomorrow. It's okay not to know and it's okay to be excited about what you don't know. It's ok to get off at the wrong stop, to have a little fender bender, and to totally make a U-turn and change directions. Just remember that in the end you were put on a road to somewhere but only you decide how you arrive at your destination.
Happy Birthday to Ryan, who arrived at his final destination too soon but took the road less traveled to get there and gave us all one hell of a ride. We will always love you and look to you for guidance down the bumpy road of life.
