My birthday was last Friday. I spent it relaxing, which was a great treat given this year. I remember my mom's card from last year, which I sadly lost in the fire. It said something to the effect of hoping all my dreams came true this year. While in a way, they did, it certainly didn't happen in a way that I would have liked. I got my son. I have a beautiful house in which to raise him. And I got to stay home with him because of ongoing medical issues, some of which are related to the fire.
In reflecting on this last year and preparing for this next one, I told myself that I get to be sad until August 25th, and then I need to pick up and move on. I know that there will still be days that I am sad, but I cannot continue to sit in a bed of grief (literally). There are days I don't want to leave my bed. There are days I don't. August 25th marks the end of the year of transition. Like my birthday, it marks a new beginning, a rebirth, a passage.
I recognize that to some extent grief is a choice. I have allowed myself to be sad and to mourn the loss of my house, and in some ways, my old identity. And I believe that is important to heal. So grief, make the most of the next six weeks. Because I'm moving on.