Birthdays & Band-Aids

Today I accidentally gave myself a paper cut. Thankfully it’s not huge, but it did require a band-aid (bleeding on the keyboard today was not an option). Which started me in thinking about what amazing little things band-aids are. A bit of cotton and adhesive is really what they are. But it’s what they do that is wonderful. Band-Aids protect a wound. They cover the small wounds such as a paper cut, or the big nasty scrapes kids get on their knees. They keep the wound clean, keep the cut together, and help prevent the wound from getting bigger. Once they have done their job, we take them off and toss them. They have done their job after all. But sometimes, the removing of the band-aid can be painful, even when we know it is past time for it to come off.

The past 18 months of my life have been filled with band-aids. In a manner of speaking, I have covered myself in them. After all, life as we knew it had been torn into pieces, and I needed to find a way to keep it all together. The stakes were much too high not too hold everything together. Some of these band-aids were mental, and others physical. There was one large one that many who came to our home saw, but I’m not sure it was always recognized as a band-aid.

For every birthday in our home, it is tradition to decorate the family room the night before the birthday. Streamers, balloons, and birthday signs . . . you name it, and we had probably used it to decorate at some point! As a child I always loved waking up the morning of my birthday and walking down the hallway, to see all the decorations that were there. Just for me. I remember the first time I did this for Chris on his birthday. He was definitely surprised. The decorating was even more fun when we had children. At that point, it wasn’t just me. The two of us would work together to make sure everything looked special for the birthday child. In October 2012, we had such an evening. I was in charge of the streamers. Chris was in charge of hanging a birthday sign over the entrance that separates the family room from the dining room. The decorations lead to a festive time the next day.

Here is where I have to admit, that for as efficient as we were at getting the decorations in place, we didn’t always take them down right away. The streamers and balloons would basically come down on their own, and would be cleaned up when they did. But birthday signs tend to linger. After all, it’s fun to pretend it’s your birthday a bit longer! Especially when you are a child.

It was 10 days after N’s birthday when Chris passed. The streamers had long since been put away. But the Happy Birthday sign was still hanging where Chris had put it. The week of planning the funeral was a solemn one, and having a Happy Birthday sign was rather mocking. A kind hearted family member, being helpful, tried to take down the sign. I about ripped his head off in yelling at him to leave it alone. Something had come over me, that the sign HAD to stay where it was. I could not explain it. It was just a feeling. Looking at the children, they looked horrified by the idea of the sign being taken down, and relieved when the letter H was put back in place. The sign remained.

As a matter of fact, the sign remained in the same place for exactly 18 months. During this time we had people in and out of our home. Family visited from out of town. Friends came over for wine. Children came over for play dates. Babysitters came over to take care of the children. For 18 months people would ask, “Who is having a birthday?” Each time we always (lamely) explained who had a birthday next. Never mind that there were 6 weeks or even 6 months between birthdays in the home. It was easier to convince someone that I was lazy and didn’t want to take down the sign between birthdays, than to explain, that it was a connection the children and I had with Chris. It was like he had decorated for everyone’s birthdays for the year. It didn’t seem possible that we could ever take down the sign.

But after 18 months, the tape that was holding the sign began to let go. Like the edge of a band-aid that has been worn too long, the H had come loose. It began in the morning. Each time one of us would notice the H hanging down, we put it back in place. After doing this all day, it was unanimously agreed that it was time for the sign to come down. I took a picture of the children under the sign, the H not quite in its original place. It’s a goofy picture, as the children are making silly faces. But I knew then, that this wound had closed. As with any wound, there is always going to be a scar. But in time, scars do fade.

Yes. It was definitely the right time for this band-aid to be taken off.