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Fifty-eight is Great

Happy Birthday, Sean
Fifty-Eight is Great
Cedar Point, around 1997
Sorry for another Sean post. Not sorry - it’s just Father’s Day and
Sean’s birthday fall within the same week. Another reminder of
who we don’t have.


Last I checked, Sean was still dead. Wish it weren’t so. Today in
America would’ve been his 58th birthday. I used to love this day,
because it's also often the summer solstice - the longest day of the
year - in the Northern Hemisphere.  
We’ve spent 3,437 days so far without Sean.


When someone has an out-of-order death, i.e., dies way before
their natural life expectancy, we miss not only their past selves,
but their future selves, too. I mourned the passing of my 96-
year-old grandfather around Christmas last year as the end of
an era. He had outlived his wife and lived long enough to see
a teenaged great-grandchild. Fiona turned six-years-old four
days after Sean’s death. I still remember her Hannah Montana cake.
Finley was four years old. His memories of Sean are reconstructed
- like shards of pottery he’s gluing together using photos and
stories from adults who knew and loved Sean.

First day of kindergarten for Fiona, Sept, 2009
The kids and I have missed many milestones with Sean: Finley’s
entry into school; hundreds of soccer games for both kids; Fiona’s
math development (the little girl who couldn’t grasp Year 5 maths just
scored excellence on her Year 11 multi-variate test); Finley’s scarecrow
hair and the first overseas trip the kids are about to take without me.
They’ve done (or will do) these things without their dad. Together,
if we’re lucky, the kids and I will endure more stupid antics and precious
time for many more years.
We’ll spend at least tens of thousands of extra hours without Sean.
This is why, for anyone who thinks I should stop living in the past,
should’ve gotten over Sean’s death by now and should’ve moved on
(all things I’ve heard from otherwise intelligent people), these cliches
mean nothing. As writer and podcaster Nora McInerny says,
“Never should on yourself. Don’t let anyone else should on you, either.”
Lopez Island, WA, August, 2009
I live in the now. A now without Sean. I plan for tomorrow.
A tomorrow without Sean.
We’re doing the best we can. As much as the kids test my sanity,
they’ve also saved me from melding with my bedspread. I'd be a
keening, squished lump without Fiona and Finley.

Sean's birthday, 2018
Tonight, we’re taking ourselves to dinner in Sean’s honor.
We’ll tell stories and I’ll get annoyed when Finley interrupts.
Fiona will say something sweet, like, “I love you, Moo”
(her nickname for me. She’s Foo).

I love you, too, Foo. I love you, Finn-bo. Happy birthday, Sean.
Our love for you will live as long as we do.

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