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It’s 1:38 AM.
It’s officially my birthday.
I’m 48 years old today. And I’m in exile.
I will not see my wife today. I will not see my beautiful children. Even if I had been in the city where they live, they left town for the week.
I haven’t spent a birthday without these people since I was in my 20s.
I don’t care about the birthday per se. I care about the loss. The connection.
I’m not asking for pity.
I’m angry. I’m bitter. I’m hurt. I’m saying it out loud, not because I think it will change anything, but because it’s real.
I don’t like polite lies. Today is going to be hard.
But I’m also resolute.
This will not break me.
This will not define me.
This will not derail me.
On my 49th birthday, I will celebrate all the things I accomplished in spite of this.
Here’s to another year. Here’s to defying the odds.
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I stopped into the chapel last night on my way up to bed. If Jesus is really there, he was the first one with me on this day.
I asked him to help me figure it out. I hope he does.
Happy my friend.
Being apart from loved ones really sucks. I've been apart from my wife and daughter for 17 years. It sucks. I empathize with your pain. Let me be Simon and help you bear your cross. I can't make things better, but i am here as you go through this.