It's tomorrow, today

Not sure where to even begin to tell you about all the things about this week that have made it a rough one, but I'm going to try, because I need to get it out of my system.

Monday was already a bad week. And it was only the first day of the week, so that's gotta tell you something.

This particular frame of time has been tough for me for quite some time now. On August 22, 1992, 9 days before my 22nd birthday, my sweetheart, angel of a cat Grace passed away. She left in typical cat fashion - went around and said her goodbyes to everyone, then walked on up into the woods, never to be seen again. Only at the time, we didn't know she was saying goodbye.

Fast forward several years, to the first birthday without my Aunt B. Her birthday was August 27, only 4 days before mine. It was always neat, having our birthdays so close together. She was like my 2nd Mom. She was always a good ear when I was upset with my mother (she and my mother were sisters), and always had a way of showing me my mother's point of view without making me feel like an idiot. And sometimes when she felt Mom and Dad were being a little too strict, she'd talk to Mom about it, and it always went smoothly. She was an awesome woman, and I still miss her every single day.

Then there was last year. On August 11, the CFO where I work died of heart failure. He had turned 49 only weeks before. It was a shock to the entire bank. He was, without a doubt, one of the top 3 best people to work for there. Very approachable, very likable, laid back. An overall good guy. The floor I work on was so eerily quiet in the weeks following his death I almost couldn't stand it. For months I'd always stop short when I walked by his office.

And then, on August 28 of last year, Babs passed away, very unexpectedly. 3 days before my birthday. I was devastated. I still struggle with it. I questioned God on why he kept taking my babies away from me just before my birthday. I still don't have an answer. Maybe I'm not ready for it. Maybe I won't know until I'm in heaven. And I can't tell you how many times I've begged Him to let me keep my Buster for at least another 10 years, and to please not take him from me near my birthday. Lucy, either.

And here we are, present day. Only let's go back to Monday, August 27. I was already down, had already been teary eyed and very emotional for a majority of the weekend, and then here it was again. August 27. Aunt B's birthday, and only a day to the year since Babs passed away. I was still very emotional and trying very hard not to be. Around 11:30 that morning, we find out that a daughter and possibly 2 granddaughters of a woman we work with might have been killed by the hand of another. My heart immediately went into my stomach, and I wanted to throw up. Details were sketchy, nobody really knew what was going on, only that the daughter that lives with her came to pick her up to to go her other daughter's house. At first, it was assumed all 3 of them were dead. News reports, as is true of many, gave out many details that hadn't yet been confirmed by police, or family, but they went ahead and made their reports anyway. We finally learn for a fact that her daughter is dead. Shot in the head. Their dog was dead. Also shot. But the 2 granddaughters that were in the house at the time were still alive, but had also been shot in the head. As I write, they're both still in critical condition. Miraculously, during the night Tuesday one of them opened her eyes and wiggled her toes, so there is a shred of hope. The other, as far as I know, is still in a coma. Their grandmother, the woman I work with, is holding herself together remarkably well. I credit that to an enormous amount of prayer support, family support and community support (in that order). And if anyone who reads this feels inclined to add their prayers and good thoughts as well, please feel free to do so. I know they will be appreciated.

So my emotional birthday week just keeps getting more and more emotional each year, it seems. I feel guilty celebrating. I feel guilty if I don't go to the wake tomorrow. I have a hard enough time being happy on my birthday as it is. Is it selfish to not go to the wake because I can't deal with any more birthday heartbreak?

And can I have one year, just one stinking lousy birthday, without some sort of heartache surrounding it?

Maybe I don't want to know the answer to that question, either.

I will try to have a happy day tomorrow, for my own sake, and for that of my parents, who are happy that I am their daughter. And I am happy and blessed that they are my parents.