Today is my boyfriend’s birthday. He would have been 33. His birthdays were always a big celebration because it falls the day before a public holiday here, so even more excuse to party.
His last birthday was his 28th. Since then I’ve always had to face this day and it bothers me more than even spending my own birthday without him. It’s always just felt so empty and I never feel to do anything.
He was someone full of fun, very popular and always the life of the party. An all around nice guy. It’s always on my mind – why him. Why was he taken so soon when he was loved by so many people.
We tell ourselves good people die young as a means of trying to justify why such an unfair event happens. But really … There’s no “real” reason other than … Fate? Or… The only sure thing in life is death?
After five years it hasn’t gotten easier. I think easier is not the term. It’s still really fucking hard. But somehow I’ve changed and become more able to face days like these without feeling like I want to die (well… Most of the time).
I hope that wherever he is, and I believe it is a better place, he is still having his huge birthday fete. He deserves it.
I love you C.McC.