I watched Modern Family a few nights ago-hilarious as always. One of the characters had a leap year birthday, & so in his lifetime he had 9 actual, Feb. 29th birthdays, & this was to be his 10th, although he was turning 40. As it ended up after disaster party plannings & fall throughs of people, places, & things, his partner realized he just wanted to be 10 for that night, not 40. Hilarious, poignant, & so sweet. They rode roller coasters until they got sick & loved every single vomit filled minute of it.
I've never been a big birthday person about myself, & for the first time ever I will admit why. I've been sick all my life. Not like now-professional status, but amateur sick. My brother died of cancer right before his 13th birthday, & a month & a half after my 9th. He was 11 days short of turning 13, & died an agonizing death. Cancer didn't kill him-he drowned from the vomit in his lungs from the cancer 'complications'. Complications my ass. That's how it was phrased but shit, I think a stronger word than complications is deserved.
I always have felt guilty that I lived & he died. Still do, & I doubt that will change. Perfect kid, great at sports, so smart he'd be off in Memphis having surgery or chemo, come back to classes & ace tests over material he knew nothing about. Sweet, loving, loved the kids who no one else liked, treated everyone with love & respect. That kind of kid. I still question God's judgement on taking him but leaving me, a amateur in training sick girl. That's why I've never relished my birthdays. Mom & dad-no one knows this, but as my life is so open now, thought I'd get it out.
Right before I took on my professional status ;)