“Happy birthday to you…”
I sang it quietly as cold sweat and tears rolled down my face. The rain pattered silently on the birthday cupcake I baked for him. I sink down to my knees and scream up at the sky soundlessly. My hands fisted automatically and I dropped the cupcake on the cool, wet ground. My rain-slicked fingers fumbled to grasp it. I wouldn’t let anything ruin it. Not the ground. Not the rain. It had to be perfect. It was his birthday.
Sheer agony flared through me and I curled up on the ground. He was going to hate me. His cupcake was ruined. It was his birthday and it was raining and his cupcake was ruined. It was supposed to be a special day. The perfect birthday.
Images of his brilliant white smile danced behind my eyelids. They conjured a brief flicker of happiness into my heart, and I felt myself being warmed inside and out from them. It would be okay, we could celebrate his birthday another day. He would be there, and we would have a picnic and smile at the stars. I would be curled up in his lap in the back of his truck, his sweatshirt warming me from head to toe.
“Happy birthday to you,” I sang again quietly as the tears fell. “We were going to have an amazing birthday for you. We planned our picnic. You were supposed to be here!” I shouted at nothing. I huddled inward on myself and smashed the cupcake into the ground, the flame long fizzled out.
“But your not here,” I whispered quietly as I glance up at his headstone. “You’re dead.”
I sang it quietly as cold sweat and tears rolled down my face. The rain pattered silently on the birthday cupcake I baked for him. I sink down to my knees and scream up at the sky soundlessly. My hands fisted automatically and I dropped the cupcake on the cool, wet ground. My rain-slicked fingers fumbled to grasp it. I wouldn’t let anything ruin it. Not the ground. Not the rain. It had to be perfect. It was his birthday.
Sheer agony flared through me and I curled up on the ground. He was going to hate me. His cupcake was ruined. It was his birthday and it was raining and his cupcake was ruined. It was supposed to be a special day. The perfect birthday.
Images of his brilliant white smile danced behind my eyelids. They conjured a brief flicker of happiness into my heart, and I felt myself being warmed inside and out from them. It would be okay, we could celebrate his birthday another day. He would be there, and we would have a picnic and smile at the stars. I would be curled up in his lap in the back of his truck, his sweatshirt warming me from head to toe.
“Happy birthday to you,” I sang again quietly as the tears fell. “We were going to have an amazing birthday for you. We planned our picnic. You were supposed to be here!” I shouted at nothing. I huddled inward on myself and smashed the cupcake into the ground, the flame long fizzled out.
“But your not here,” I whispered quietly as I glance up at his headstone. “You’re dead.”
WSwilliams
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