The Parting Gift

October is Thanksgiving in Canada. And around Thanksgiving, it’s my late husband’s birthday. It’s been almost 23 years that I’ve celebrated his birthday—first with him present, and for the last almost 13 years, without his physical presence.

I came from a family where parties were not a thing. Dates were almost a forced celebration, and I never learned to enjoy them. I didn’t even know what to do during them! Many Christmases we spent sitting around a table, almost embarrassed for being there, not knowing what to say or what to do next.

I should say that I am an alcoholic—a sober one for 35 years, but an alcoholic nonetheless. And it runs in the family. When I was very young, the parties were loud and full of people: family and friends populating the big farm table we had in the interior of the state of São Paulo, in Brazil.

What seemed to be happiness was, probably, the alcohol speaking. Life changed. The farm was sold, the alcohol was removed from the house, and a dry, weird life took its place. This happened during my teenage years. Since then, if my mind remembers correctly, dates became something painful. And I learned to ignore them.

Fast forward many years—2005, more precisely—when I was 33 and met my husband. It was January when we started our relationship, and very soon he told me he was inviting me to be his plus-one for his parents’ 50th anniversary in December! I thought it was so far away! But I said yes.

And I was there. I was marrying into a very different family, one that loved a good party and found an excuse to celebrate at every occasion. I don’t know if I ever got used to it, but I participated in many of them. Not all, but many. As my husband neared his death, we missed one of the last parties where everybody was together.

I was able to overcome my extreme laziness to organize parties while my son was growing up, and he had the best ideas for his birthday parties! We had some great ones. Now, with fewer friends and only the two of us in a place where we don’t know too many people, important dates have become less and less celebratory.

But there are two days in the year that we do our best to be together and do something to celebrate my husband’s life: his birthday and the anniversary of his passing. We think of him every day of the year, but those two days are simply different. I am very grateful to have shared life with him. I am extremely grateful to have shared the wildest and biggest adventure of them all: birthing and parenting my son. Seeing him grow and turn into such an interesting human being is one of the greatest joys of my life. Cliché, I know. But so true.

And my husband couldn’t have imagined that with his passing, he would give me the most incredible parting gift of them all: a relationship so strong with my son that he, as an 18-year-old, still chooses to spend time with his mom because the time spent together is good and meaningful.

And you? Do you have a parting gift to cherish?