The birthday

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, this first birthday without Mike. I turned 56; he would have been 34.

It's after minight and I should be asleep because I have to be up at 6 and at the polls before 7 to cover the election.

Mike used to call me every birthday morning to sing "Happy birthday to ME!" at the top of his lungs. Of course, I sang along as loudly as I could, and then we'd hang up. It was a joke that never got old, and I missed that very much.

I saw the bereavement counselor at 10 and then went back to work.

I had friends holding me up all day long. Liz and Val went to dinner with me and Rob after work at our favorite Indian restaurant, Mela. We told the waitress it was my birthday and after our meal, she brought out a piece of mango cheesecake with a candle for me. It's a fairly small restaurant and I just announced, "It's my birthday!"

For the first time all day, it really felt like it. My philosophy hs always been that a birthday is one's own personal national holiday.

By 7, Liz and I were at the Biergarden, where we met another friend, Byron, and as we were sitting there, a kid walked by who looked an awful lot like Trey. I poked Liz.

Doesn't that look just like my grandson?"

She had met him at the rally, and she agreed. Looks just like him.

When he walked by again and started giggling, I realized it was Trey.

I turned around and there was Danny. He took the day off work and drove up to surprise me. Rob knew about it all along. So, we spent a couple hours at the Biergarden, where I nursed a single beer. Joel Burgess and Carol Motsinger came by. Joel bought me a shot of good Irish whiskey and Danny drove me home.

Trey and I went out on the desk so I could sing Happy birtday to ME!!! to the stars. It seemed like the right way to end the day, on a note that brought back how wonderfully silly Mike was. Somewhere, Mike is laughing at that joke that never gets old.