It’s Brock’s 40th birthday today.

Last year we did great, even though it was only six months after his death. We had a little birthday party for him at my parents’ house, with one of his favourite meals (tacos, maybe? I can’t remember) and the cake his mom always made for him: angel food cake with icing made from whipping cream and chocolate pudding powder.

Our son loves birthday parties and I let him blow out the candles on Brock’s cake. I gave Isaac a Hot Wheels car as a present.

This year, though. Oh wow. Why is this so hard? I know that anniversaries and milestones are often triggers for grief. I’ve learned that grief is an ocean full of emotional ice bergs, and I never know when I’ll smack into one, or how much damage it will do. But I didn’t think Brock’s birthday this year would be harder than last year.

Our plans for tonight include hamburgers (Brock’s other favourite meal), with bacon-wrapped scallops to start. Hickory Sticks on the side. The mandatory angel food cake.

Podcast therapy

Maybe I’m finding this birthday trickier because I’m sometimes a masochist and I suggested to John Close and Andrew Langford that we record our planned Obstacle Course Podcast interview on March 28th, to commemorate what should have been Brock’s 40th birthday. Obstacle Course features guests who have lived through life’s obstacles: in my case, Brock’s stage 4 kidney cancer diagnosis, three-year decline, and death at the too-young age of 38.

For an hour and a half the two hosts asked me gentle questions about death and grief, mindful of any boundaries I might I have (I don’t have any). I haven’t done nearly enough counselling or therapy yet, and this was the most I’ve talked about those three years … ever. Funny thing: normal people don’t seek out one-and-a-half-hour conversations about death and grief.

But John and Andrew aren’t normal, and that conversation dug deeper than I have yet, on my own.

So maybe it’s because I did that interview on Thursday, and poked at all the wounds. Maybe it’s because, when I got into the car to get Isaac immediately after the interview, Sirius radio played these lines as soon as the engine started:

“I miss the earth so much, I miss my wife.”

(From “Rocket Man,” via a Jason Mraz cover.)

This undid me completely, because I sometimes feel that Brock is reaching out to me by DJ-ing me songs.

The thing about the 40th

I have this memory that haunts me:

When we’d stopped farming and knew Brock was dying, sometimes I would need a “drive-by cry” with a friend: I’d detour after grocery shopping and swing by a friend’s house to cry on their shoulder. It was just after we’d learned that Brock only had 2 to 5 years left that I dropped by Sheila and Clemens’s house.

I remember saying: “He might not live to 40. Can you believe that? We won’t be able to have a 40th birthday party for him.”

And Clemens assured me that there would still be a party. He assured me that we wouldn’t forget about Brock. Being a great friend, he tried so hard to comfort me, in one of those situations where there are no words.

Yes, we’re having a party. But there aren’t 40 tacky plastic flamingos on the lawn. I didn’t buy the obligatory “Over the Hill” junk from the party store. There was no big party to plan.

We’re doing our best. We’re all doing our best: me and my family, by having this special dinner in Brock’s memory. My friends, for calling and texting and checking in on me this week. Isaac will blow out the candles, and I got him a Hot Wheels car that has a built-in bubble wand, plus the bubble solution to go with it. He’s going to love it.

And in a few weeks, John and Andrew will post their interview with me, somewhat more polished than the live version, and that will help keep Brock’s memory alive for a little bit longer.

For now, I just have to get through this day. Whip the cream and chocolate pudding. Ice the cake. Try to focus on what I have and how lucky we are in this Plan B life, rather than on what we lost, and how hard those final years were.

Instead of Brock’s birthday being a reminder that he’s not here to celebrate with us, I want it to be a wake-up call to use my time well.

To keep writing. To add more of Brock’s writing to his website, so other people can benefit from his thinking. To appreciate our son, even on those days when it’s hard just to smile.

Happy birthday, B-Rock. I love you so much.

#

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please comment below, share this post online or read more posts on this website.

To join me on this epic adventure of being a writer, subscribe to my monthly email newsletter: click here to sign up.