Bewildering Birthdays

Well, today, the 17th of November, was Tom's birthday. He turned 35 years old.

The hits just keep on comin'.

First, just a little over a week ago now, it was the letter and the break-up, which completely changed everything that we - actually I guess it's more accurate to say 'I' - had planned and hoped for by coming here to Germany.

Then, the very next day, it was our one-year anniversary, a day that should have been such a happy one and that became such a terrible one, full of confusion, pain, and heartache.

Yesterday was the one-month mark for me arriving in Germany, a place that felt like it had a little piece of home in it for the first two weeks, thanks to Tom, and a place where I now feel completely alone and abandoned.

And today is the birthday of the man I loved for a year of my life, and instead of the celebration that it should have been for us together - I was SO excited to spend his birthday with him here in Germany this year - it's become one more landmark day of questions and frustrations, a day in which I've spent every hour thinking, "what if...?" and "why?"

I wrote Tom today - I wrote him an email wishing him a happy birthday. I tried so hard to make it free of any strings, any pain, any sadness. I tried, and truly wanted to succeed, in just wishing him a special day. I couldn't do less than that, and I really wanted to do so much more. I wanted to see him, I wanted to smile at him, and see an answering smile on his face. I wanted to be the first person he heard 'Happy Birthday' from in the morning, and the last person that said 'Happy Birthday' to him before he went to sleep. I wanted to celebrate the day with him, together.

Instead, I'm here, writing this blog and not knowing anything about his birthday, nothing at all.

He didn't write me back. There was no response to the email I sent him.

I'm not sure how to take that, and I'm not sure that I should even try to figure it out, or analyze it. But of course, I did try to analyze it - that's just me. Maybe he didn't get the email. Maybe he wasn't at a computer today at all. Maybe he got it, but didn't feel up to responding, because it was too hard. Maybe he got it and he didn't want to respond because he wishes I wouldn't have sent him anything. Maybe he's read it, and he's thinking of the best way to respond. Maybe he deleted it without reading it. Maybe he read it, and just didn't know what to say back. And, the ultimate fantasy, maybe he didn't respond because he's on his way here, even as I write this. He doesn't need to write an email to me, because he's coming here himself.

It's amazing how much thought you can put into such a small thing - not receiving a response to a birthday email...

Of course, the key point here is that it's Tom's birthday. I said this in the letter I sent him, and I'll say it again now:

What I'm thinking and feeling today really isn't important.

It was Tom's day, and I hope with all my heart that he made the most of it.

Happy birthday, Tom.