The sun is setting on your 60th birthday, my friend. My long lost friend. At least I trust the sun is setting because the space between the trees above the creek is darkening. The sun never came out today; instead raindrops and clouds and cool easy wind. Strange party favors for late July.
That light wind is doing its work in the wind chimes - a melancholy happy birthday to you. I sing along with it, with one more word from "Happy Birthday" landing upon each drawn out, measured note. What would the timing on this score read?
A raven sits on that branch over there and calls out occasionally reminding me to smile. He knows how he makes me smile. Our party game.
And that's how simple these moments are on your big six oh. I am simply lying on my bed resting, flushing the most recent chemo drugs from my body, wondering if you even know what this year has looked like for me. Sixty. I was supposed to be hiking the Pacific Crest Trail and you were going to meet me for a section. We had big happy plans. "Finally" kind of plans.
Instead you wander the roads, littering the country with discarded truths, dreams, promises; an old truck at an abandoned campsite. And I stumble with numb feet into my own new territory, having left behind body parts and confidence.
Many gifts have come with this cancer of mine. Peace at the hand of your betrayal. Faith on my knees at night. And gratitude for all those days and years that were good. Gratitude that I know that very gentle side of you and we were blessed with a golden cord. Cancer has taught me that it is all very simple. Love. Love is very simple. And forgiveness paramount.
You are forever my fermata.
Happy Birthday stevematts...