12/27/24

And so today’s moment of happiness despite the news.

Today is Michael’s 60^th birthday. I don’t know if I’m supposed to say it like that, or if I’m supposed to say today would have been Michael’s 60^th birthday. So I’m going with a combo. Today is his birthday. He would have been 60 years old.

Michael’s age amazed me as I found myself attracted to him, living with him, marrying him. I’ve always been drawn to older men (though maybe not so much now, that I’M “older”). Michael and I met online, in a writer’s chatroom, and as it became clear there was potential for a relationship there, I asked him how old he was.

It nearly ended the relationship before it even began.

But we stuck with it. The hardest times were when I was in a new “decade” and he was still behind me. I turned 40 the year we had Olivia. I was, according to my doctor, a “geriatric mother”. Michael was 36. He wasn’t geriatric. When I turned 50, he was in his 40s. But the worst, by far, has been since I’ve been in my 60s. I turned 60 in 2020. Michael happily tagged along after me in his 50s.

At every one of his birthdays after I turned 60, I complained, “Would you hurry up? Get in your 60s already!”

He would just laugh and then strut around the house, shouting his age. Maddening.

Last year, Michael wasn’t home for his birthday. For his combination Christmas/birthday present, I flew him to Omaha to see his mother and sister. He hadn’t seen them in years, and I felt a sudden pressure to get him there. The best time for him to go was between Christmas and New Year’s, as he was in a new job and he didn’t have much vacation yet. Plus we were saving what vacation he did have for a cruise to London and Paris for our 25^th wedding anniversary. But because he worked for a technical college, he had more days off between the holidays because the school was closed down. So I asked him if that was what he would like. I wouldn’t go along, as I wanted to be here with the kids.

He was delighted. He told me it was his favorite Christmas/birthday present ever. He stayed with his mom and sister, visited extended family, saw people he used to work with.

I didn’t know, and neither did he, that it was his last chance to see his family. We didn’t go on the cruise for our anniversary either. He’d been gone for four months by then.

When I managed to get through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I breathed a sigh of relief, but then turned toward the next hurdle – his birthday two days after Christmas. And I had the oddest, most irreverent thought. He was never going to catch up with me. I was going to be married to a man in his fifties forever.

I swear, I swear, I swear (!!!!!) I heard him laugh.

Maddening.

(I am seriously tempted to go out and get him a birthday cake, with the number 60 written in frosting on it. Underlined. and with several exclamation points.)

Happy birthday, Michael. I love you.

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.