I turned 34 this week. I look at aging differently now. I think we all know how our culture abhors aging. Wrinkles? Sagging breasts? Cellulite?!! Dear Lord, certainly there is nothing worse!!
It's an all out war to consciously reject these perspectives. I am determined to embrace aging. Damon didn't get to age. His wrinkles and age spots were stolen from him, and from me.
Yes I'm 34, damn straight I'm in my mid 30s. I'm aging. It's a PRIVALEDGE.
That being said, the actual day is brutal. I always relive, over and over, my last birthday when he was alive. My incredible fullness on that day, my thought "this year is going to be the best yet," smack me hard across the face. So, while I insist on embracing aging I hate my birthday. It may be the most painful of all of the gut wrenching holidays. I don't think I have to tell you what I spent most of last week doing.
But Friday I did this
That's 5 bands, permanently announcing 5. There are 5 of us, always, whether the world can see him or not he is one of us. It's another silent scream and it eases the ache. It makes me feel like no matter how uncomfortable his death makes people the world can't make him go away no matter how hard they try. He is mine.
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