I turned 33 two weeks ago and I'm definitely at the point where I have to count to figure out how old I am each year and then if someone asks me my age about half the time I try to guess and give the wrong number.
My birthday fell on a busy day at work, but Emily and I had an extra long walk (and stopped for breakfast) before I had to head in and then D had flowers, cake and champagne waiting for me at home, so all in all it was a pretty perfect day.
I didn't really expect all the emotions. This was my second birthday without my dad and last year I think I was still in shock because I barely remember it. I'm not a crazy birthday person and I'm always happy keeping the festivities very minimal, but I got lots of sweet calls and texts and over the course of the day my dad became increasingly conspicuous by his absence. Since we didn't see each other daily, most of the time I don't have to continually confront the fact that he's not here. Even if his absence hits me hard at random moments, for the most part I can go about my weekday routine and just let myself half-believe that he's at home doing his thing and that we'll talk in the evening.
I don't really have a good way to sum this up so the post has just been hanging while I try to come up with something. I miss him, and I know he would have approved of the camping trip we took over my birthday weekend, and I wish I could talk to him and tell him about it. It's still strange to me that life can be so sad and so sweet at the same time.