Foot In Mouth

The moment I told my brother-in-law that this had been the best birthday ever, I realized I’d said exactly the wrong thing; his sister died early that evening.

In my defense, I didn’t say it when we spoke that night.  I said it when he called to wish me a belated birthday on Sunday morning.  I’m not that insensitive.  

It was a strange evening, the actual night of my birthday.  Heidi was gone to her mother’s already, and Alanna went to bed early.  And then my parents called with birthday wishes and the news of my brother-in-law’s sister.  It was not unexpected; she’d been sick for several months, but the death of a sibling is never a small thing, and Joe felt it very keenly.

This was the second time in five years that a death has occurred on my birthday.  The first time, some family friends lost their five year-old daughter.  I cannot conceive of the devastation they must still feel, but the celebration of my birthday has since lost quite a bit of its luster.  (And as if losing a child isn’t bad enough, Caroline’s birthday was December 25th.  Sometimes life is very, very cruel.)