Yesterday, May 4th, was a milestone birthday for me. Fifty trips around the sun. Sadly, I had not planned on living this long, I just really suck at suicide.
Matthew and Monica and Xavier each sent separate texts wishing me Happy birtday. My dad (probably Kay) sent me a birtday text as well.
I haven't been on Facebook in a few weeks because I am dreading having to look at all the birthday wishes from people, most of whom have become acquaintances, including people I have known since kindergarten, because I know the messages will make me cry. Although I think they mean well, if my birthdate wasn't listed on FB, I wouldn't hear from 95% of them.
The one voice I needed to hear the most yesterday, especially because I had a breast biopsy, on a lump I discovered the week before, the day before before my birthday, was Henry's - yet it never came to pass. Nothing on text either. The increased ache is almost too much to bear.
He has not asked about the results of the biopsy (benign) and I haven't told him what they were.
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