Celebrating My Son While Grieving His Dad: A Widow’s Birthday Reflection
There’s a special kind of ache that lives in the quiet moments before a birthday celebration. The kind of ache that smiles in front of the cake but cries while wrapping gifts.
Today, my oldest son celebrates another year of life. AJ is turning the big 13…although I celebrate him with all my heart, we all silently, and sometimes loudly grieve the man who is not here to see it.
This is the tension of widowhood and motherhood: joy and sorrow, side by side.
The Weight Of Celebrating Without Him
It’s only been 2 yrs since he passed away, but ever since, birthdays have felt….different. He was my person to complete the last minute things, made sure nothing slipped my mind so that the day was perfect. My gentle reminder and the calm to my storm.
Now its me…
While I do my best to show up—to prepare, to laugh, to plan out everything—I can still feel the silence of what’s missing. I see it in my son’s eyes when he mentions his dad. I feel it when he makes his silent wish before blowing out his candles, every year, he’ll wish his dad was here to watch him grow.
What Grief Has Taught Me About Joy
I’ve learned that we don’t stop grieving just because its someones birthday. And we don’t stop celebrating because we’re grieving.
Both can exist.
I can feel the pain of his absence and the pride of watching our son grow.
I can laugh while my heart aches.
I can honor my husband’s memory and make new ones with our children.
Its not about pretending everything’s fine. Its about showing up anyway.
For Other Women Like Me
If you’re navigating a birthday, a holiday, a milestone without your spouse—please know: You’re not alone.
You can cry in the car and still show up with cupcakes.
You can feel broken and still be whole enough to celebrate.
You can miss him deeply and still create moments of magic for your child.
Thats not weakness.
Thats love.
Today, I celebrate my son.
And in my heart, I celebrate the man who helped shape him—who loved him fiercely, and who I know is still loving and guiding him from beyond what I can see.
And I celebrate me, too—for doing the hardest things: loving and grieving at the same time.
— La 💙
