November 30, 2009
I cry every year on my birthday. I don’t know why. It’s not because I’m getting older or that I’m not happy. I guess I cry because it is a yearly reminder that life is changing. When I was younger my biggest fear was watching my parents grow old. I didn’t want to leave the security of my childhood home…with all my siblings, pets and school routines. I didn’t want life to
I used to cry and still cry because life seems so scary, like an enigma…for it didn’t make sense to be born, just to live and then die one day. You have no choice where or when you are born, by chance some people are born poor, disabled or sick. So I never quite understood
why I was born American, or Asian, or with my specific parents, with my specific siblings in my specific city. I refused to believe God played random Russian roulette with our lives. I wanted to believe there was something more. That like every ingrained code in our solar system that we too existed for a specific reason.
At around midnight on November 26th, David walked into our room to greet me happy birthday. While I was hugging my son sleeping at the time, I was also trying to hold
back from the natural tears I cry every year. I don’t think any of my former boyfriends have ever witnessed me cry on my birthday, nor have they ever witnessed me spill my soul about my childhood fears and profound thoughts about life and death. As he listened to my feelings, he also shared his personal experiences and recent thoughts regarding his grandfather’s passing. In
that moment with him, I shared a human connection, not as partners, or parents or even friends. We were united by a deep-rooted human bond. The one that realizes that regardless where you are born, what you look like or who your parents are – you can’t escape the resonating truth that we all share the human anxiety of living and dying.
Now that I have moved out the house, created a family and have my own business…now that my childhood pet has died and my parents have grown older I’m accepting the changes that life brings every year, every day and every minute of my life.
As I looked at David that night I told him with tears in my eyes and snot in my nose how much I loved who we were right now. I love Christian at his age right now I love our youth and our anticipation for a life ahead. I don’t want things to change.
And yet things are changing.
One day when I lay in my death bed, when my sons are reading me the journals of my life, maybe then I’ll understand the essence of life…the meaning of my life
Journal Pictures: November 30, 2009
It was a great time – but I wished my mom was there.
Visiting her in the hospital that day. Earlier that morning I called to say “thank you” for
giving birth to me 29 years ago.
Sarah Nicole Reye’s baby shower brunch.
It seems like yesterday when she told me she discovered she was pregnant!
Sarah Nicole is 8 months – I’m 5 months!
In the next couple weeks I might start transitioning to maternity clothes.
I think I’m still considered small in the belly.
At Sophia’s 1st birthday party on Sunday with my favorite little man.
Check her out. How funny!