Double Nickels: Still Showing Up

My birthday is approaching.

Double nickels.

55.

That’s a huge milestone. And although that’s probably a whole different blog because I certainly don’t feel 55—and let me just put it out there, I don’t think I look it either 😂—55 is here.

And if you had told me years ago that I would reach this milestone without my husband here to celebrate it with me, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Yet here I am.

This will be my third birthday without him.

Even writing that feels wild.

My third birthday without my husband.

There are certain things about grief that I don’t know if we ever completely eliminate. Tolerate? Yes. Learn to carry? Absolutely. But eliminate?

I don’t know about that.

Because days like birthdays have a way of bringing reality right back to the surface.

He’s not here.

And sometimes saying that out loud still crushes me.

There is an internal fight that happens when those thoughts come. My mind knows what happened. I know my husband died. I know he’s not walking through that door. I know life has continued.

But there is still a part of me trying to accept the reality of what that means.

Especially during moments he would have made special.

Birthdays were special.

He made them special.

So here comes 55, and there’s this strange mixture happening inside of me.

I’m excited.

I’m grateful.

I’m hopeful.

And I’m dreading it.

All at the same time.

I don’t know how the day is going to feel. I don’t know what emotions are going to show up. Grief has taught me enough by now to know that I can’t predict that.

And maybe I don’t need to.

I’m learning to catch myself when my thoughts start becoming too consuming.

When the noise starts getting louder…

He’s not here.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

How am I supposed to celebrate without him?

I have to catch myself.

No. Pause.

Come back to right now.

Not tomorrow.

Not what should have been.

Right now.

And in that moment, I try to find gratitude.

Because there is so much of it.

I am grateful for my husband’s life.

I’m grateful for the birthdays we did get to celebrate.

I’m grateful for the family moments, the laughter, the memories and all those ordinary little pieces of life that became extraordinary once I realized I could no longer create new ones with him.

I’m grateful that I was loved.

I’m grateful that I got to love him.

And I’m grateful that I am still here.

That doesn’t mean I’m trying to convince myself that everything is wonderful.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s what I’m doing.

Am I really okay? Or am I trying to convince myself to be okay?

That’s part of my internal struggle too.

But maybe I don’t have to choose between the two.

Maybe I can miss my husband terribly and celebrate my birthday.

Maybe I can have tears in my eyes and laugh until my stomach hurts.

Maybe I can wish he were sitting beside me and appreciate every person God has placed around me.

Maybe gratitude doesn’t require grief to leave the room.

That’s something I’m learning.

So I decided to kick off 55 by spending some time with my kids.

Not everybody could be there. Life is life. But I got an intimate moment with some of my children, and I allowed myself to enjoy it.

I also talked to them about what I was feeling.

I don’t want to hide this part of myself from them.

And I don’t want to hide it from you either.

Because sometimes as the years pass, I think there’s this quiet pressure to stop talking about grief.

People may not intentionally put that pressure on us. Sometimes we put it on ourselves.

It’s been a while.

I should be better.

People probably don’t want to hear this anymore.

So we start compressing it.

We hold it in.

We show everyone the part of us that’s functioning while hiding the part that’s still struggling.

I don’t want to do that.

Not here.

If I’m going to talk about this journey, I want to tell the truth about it.

Life is still hard without my husband.

There are still moments when I don’t know what to do with the emotions.

There are still days when showing up as the fullness of myself is difficult because sometimes it feels like there’s an absentee part of me.

He was woven into so much of who I was.

We created a life together.

A family.

Traditions.

Memories.

Plans.

And now I’m learning how to take everything that life gave me—all that love, all those memories, even the pain—and somehow channel it forward.

Not leave him behind.

Carry the love forward.

Maybe that’s part of what this next chapter is about.

I don’t feel strong all the time.

Actually, there are plenty of moments when I don’t feel strong at all.

But I am determined to see this life through.

That’s different.

I still have hope that there are beautiful days ahead of me.

Days when I’ll smile.

Days when I’ll laugh.

Days when I’ll experience something I never expected.

Days when the emptiness won’t feel quite as loud.

And when the monumental moments come—the birthdays, milestones, anniversaries and all the things I once imagined experiencing with my husband—I want to learn how to meet them with gratitude for what was and openness to what still can be.

So I’m turning 55.

Double nickels.

My third birthday without my husband.

And yes, that hurts like hell.

But I’m here.

Still carrying grief.

Still carrying love.

Still figuring things out.

Still hopeful.

Still trying.

Still showing up.

And perhaps that is what I want to celebrate most this year.

Not how strong I’ve been.

Not how much I’ve overcome.

Simply the fact that through everything, I kept showing up.

So as I step into 55, my prayer is simple:

Thank You, Lord.

Thank You for my husband’s life.

Thank You for the life we shared.

Thank You for the people You’ve placed around me.

Thank You for every smile I can still experience.

Thank You for every moment that reminds me there is still goodness here.

Thank You for another birthday.

And thank You for another opportunity to show up for the life I’ve been blessed with.

Happy double nickels to me.

And this one?

I’m going to try.

And if grief knocks me down somewhere along the way…

I’ll try again.