Birthday Tears

A friend, turning 80, finally allowed others to help him celebrate his birthday.

I went to a gathering last evening. It is a small group of us who get together occasionally for dinner and for some time to enjoy each other’s company.

This time was special. 

One of our small group was turning 80.

He had never really celebrated or allowed anyone to celebrate his birthday much. He had a rough childhood, learned at a very young age to take care of himself, and did not want to participate in any kind of holiday, especially his birthday. It was not something that had ever been part of his life, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

His wife, who loves parties, respected his wishes, and did not push him.

This time the group knew of the birthday and talked about acknowledging it at the gathering we were going to have, asking him what his choice of meal would be. I was lucky enough to be able to bring dessert and was told that he liked pie, any kind of pie. He seemed to accept our offerings of his favorite meal and of us being able to acknowledge his birthday. 

So we gathered, and as it grew closer to time for dessert, we prepared the cards, the dessert (two kinds of pie and good vanilla ice cream, of course!), lit the candles, and gathered round him to wish him a happy birthday. The woman who was hosting the gathering this time had decorated her house with lots of birthday balloons and banners. It was lovely and so festive. 

He seemed to be doing ok with it all. He read his cards, cut his pies after blowing out the candles, and enjoyed the laughter and well wishes all around. His wife was thrilled to have had some help with something that she had wanted to do for such a very long time. 

It was time to go. He stood up, looked around as we talked about how happy we were to be able to have been included in this special celebration. He stood there for a moment, unable to get the words out, and then he began to cry, just a bit. After all of these years, all of the having done what he felt he needed to do to get through, he had stopped and let in some birthday love. He let himself be overcome in that moment. The tears came, ever so softly. The feelings came, feelings that were inside of him for such a very long time.

What an honor it was to have been part of this. What a sacred gift it was to have witnessed this lovely man allowing others to express their love and celebration of him, their gratitude for his presence on the earth and in their lives. 

We toughen up and do the best that we can in figuring out what we need to do to survive and get through what we need to. He had done this very well. 

And yet, just maybe, while there is still time, maybe we can stop and let in some of what we have feared to let in. Maybe we can feel all that has been inside of us for so long. Maybe we can allow the possibility of others’ love to enter our hearts and souls. Maybe there is still time to feel it all, still time to heal. 

We are alive. We are still here.

What behaviors and defenses can we look at now, with compassion, in our own lives, that we may have used to survive? What might we have shut out to get tough? What have we not allowed ourselves to feel, to receive? 

There is still time to celebrate who we are and to celebrate being alive. There is still time to let others in. 

There is still time to have a happy birthday. 

There is still time.