The Last of the Firsts

He was the youngest of four sons.

The baby.

The running family joke was that baby Sheldon could do no wrong in the eyes of his parents- he was the curly haired golden child.

His mum lovingly recalls how he was an early baby- in a rush to get to this world. Maybe he had been told he would only have 43 years and 13 days to be here- a beautiful physicality on Planet Earth. Oh- those days and moments that you walked upon this earth with the sure and steady tread of a man on a mission. Oh my heart.

His mum remembers that the tiny, premature to this world baby Sheldon Dale loved to be held and rocked. Oh- she sighs- the hours I would rock him. You couldn’t put him down!

I’m a mum. I have baby boys. My heart fractures a little when I hear her memories. A mum who treasured her tiny, last born son.

This week was his birthday- and his mum, for the first time, had to stand by a patch of Planet Earth and whisper a soft “Happy Birthday my darling son” into the earth.

This week was his birthday and his sons sat in a circle around a cake and didn't quite know what to do. Do we sing? Do we cry? Is there some ritual for the no-longer-with-us on their birthday??

Matthew saved the day. Oh, my strong and lovely-hearted Matty boy. He choked back the tears and said "This is about how special Dad was and how lucky we were to have him. That's all we have to do- just remember how great he was."

 

Oh, my heart.

I’ve both dreaded and longed for these days.

We are amongst the moments that are the last of the firsts.
We have survived and lived through the first Christmas.
The first Easter.
Each of us have had a birthday celebration of our own without him here.

We have had so many firsts since we laid him to rest in that earthy grave.

And here- this week was his birthday.
The marker that celebrates his arrival to this life he was graced with.

I have so very many words and yet I can’t form them into what I need you to hear.
Just this-

Happy 44^th Birthday my darling Sheldon.

The marker exists still- your grand arrival needs to be celebrated still.

Oh- how privileged is this Earth to have known your step and your smile and your kindness for 43 years and 13 days.

You lived with a vivacious energy and a generous spirit.

You gifted us with some really profound insights in those last months before you left.

You lived.
You were here.

It’s that birthday time... so would you eat a piece of decadent cake, or maybe have a shot of tequila- hey, go crazy and do both.

And as you do- would you raise the glass or the cake covered fork and remember him.
Remember the message that he echoed in his dying days.
Be present.
Be purposeful.
Be kind.
Be brave anyways- especially when it's scary as hell.
Put down the screen and look into a loved ones eyes and smile.

We had a conversation, me and him- on the way to his big Birthday party last year. He was so weak and tired. The pain was raw and he was fading fast.
I looked at him and sighed.
"It's a privilege and an honour to grow old". I said.
"Yep- don't ever complain about how many candles are on the damn cake Suz- it means you've had another year of love and laughs." He replied.

Hey- You have another year of love and laughs before you.
Use them well..

So...

We are amongst the last of the firsts, and it’s a heartbreakingly beautiful place to be.

We are amongst the last of the firsts- and the most profound is coming. That day that was your last is coming. How can it be a year?

The last of the firsts is where we are walking.