Birthday.

And here we arrive at perhaps the second most difficult of the anniversaries we'll go through this year, the day Michael was born.

Michael and I met in October of 1994 after his birthday had already passed, so it wasn't until the following September that he got to enjoy the full #heatherlovesbirthdays experience. And what an experience it was! Michael was turning twenty-four that year, so I collected twenty-four small, inexpensive gifts and wrapped them individually in comic book themed wrapping, circling each with curling ribbon. I was living in my grandfather's house until the wedding, and covered the entire dining room table with gifts, anticipating the way his face was sure to light up when he walked in the door. But that isn't what happened at all.

When Michael saw everything I'd prepared, his face was not filled with joy. It was more a look of shock. He was speechless for an awkward amount of time. We were less than a year into our relationship, six months of which Michael had spent on tour, and there was still a lot we didn't know about each other. I felt a bit faint, horrified at the possibility that I'd messed up quite badly.

When he finally found words to speak, it was to tell me that in his family, birthdays had been very low-key, and that because his birthday was so close to his brother's, the celebration (a homemade cake and a present or two) were often combined. He shared how he frequently felt like it was merely an afterthought, and he'd never before received such an abundance of gifts. He didn't think his birthdays were special occasions because he'd done nothing to earn a celebration. He felt uncomfortable with the attention and even more uncomfortable knowing the stack of presents were all for him.

Having my own birthday on Christmas Eve, I could relate to feeling like my special day was an afterthought, especially considering the number of birthday gifts wrapped in Christmas paper I opened as a kid. But my experience made me that much more eager to make sure everyone felt loved and appreciated on their special day. To me, simply being born and staying alive another year in this hard world is a reason to rejoice. There is nothing to earn, no achievement to unlock, just the one day each year where we get to celebrate the unique, exquisite existence of people we know and love. Michael didn't see it that way at all, at least not when it came to his own birthday.

This is the one area I consistently got wrong during the thirty birthdays I was privileged to celebrate with Michael.

Each year after that first one with all the gifts, he would beg for it to be more low key. No, even lower. Lower than that. Please don't make a fuss. And then the year that I barely acknowledged it, he said he was sad because it felt like I didn't care! I tried everything I could think of, special trips including one to Beijing to climb the Great Wall of China with his friend Jeff who shares his birthday, scavenger hunts, getting him just one BIG gift instead of dozens of small ones, nothing was just right. He always begged me not to throw a party for him, at least until he found himself approaching 50. Then he told me he wanted a really big party. I had to ask several times if that was what he really wanted, because I wouldn't be able to handle it if I went all out and then he sulked and pouted because it was all wrong. No, he assured me, it was what he really wanted.

Alas, for Michael's 50th birthday the whole world got Covid and a big party was off the table. Covid took a lot from all of us, but I still carry resentment over not being able to finally give him the huge party he finally decided would be okay. A small consolation was spending the whole Saturday before it with a small group of friends and colleagues from Disney on a junk boat cruising around Hong Kong, swimming in the South China Sea. They made sure there was cake and bubbly, which pleased him greatly. That was the year I (and maybe you!) managed to surprise him with a gift he genuinely loved for the rest of his life... a playlist of songs I'd asked everyone on Facebook and Instagram to contribute to. I mocked up a CD cover with his photo and all the song titles and contributors and put a link to Spotify inside. He absolutely loved it, especially when people had also shared their reason for choosing a particular song. Score one (and really only just the one) for Heather!

Considering how awkward he remained about how he wanted to be celebrated (if at all), he was genuinely awesome about celebrating others, especially mine. I'm so grateful for that last birthday party he threw for me just days before my actual birthday, the last I would ever have with him.

Our home was a disaster on his final birthday last year.

He was post-transplant and finally home. Unfortunately our kitchen ceiling had fallen in and workers were there to saw into it and replace it. Dust was everywhere, and one of the very specific restrictions from his transplant team was to not be around any construction. He spent that day in our bedroom with our industrial air purifier on its highest setting. Our dog was having her own medical issues and my older son ran her to the vet. Once all the workers were gone and I put the kitchen back in order, I made him chicken with coconut rice and Benjamin made him banana bread. There were no candles, no gifts, just heartfelt cards from each of us. Mellow, subdued, but with so much genuine hope of many, many more birthdays to come. I remember apologizing, saying I wish we could do more, that this was surely the worst one yet. I expected him to agree but he surprised me by saying no, it was perfect: all of us were together, he was at home instead of spending another lonely night at the hospital, and his fancy new bone marrow courtesy of our son Ben was doing it's job instead of trying to kill him like the old, mutated bone marrow he was growing before. Everything he ever wanted was right there with him, what more could he ask for? That's high praise coming from Michael Chase!

The following night he got a huge gift, but not from us. Our friend Eks convinced several of the performers at Hong Kong Disneyland to hold a benefit here in our little beach community to share their skills of dancing and singing to raise funds. It was amazing. Michael could not attend of course, he was severely immunocompromised and extremely weak. We recorded it for him, and I sent little snippets from my phone of each act as the night went on. That fundraiser ultimately paid for an entire month of Michael's painfully expensive medication and made him cry so much. He loved it, this final birthday gift from Eks and the talented people who perform on stages Michael built so long ago at Hong Kong Disneyland.

Michael shares a birthday with SO many people we know.

He had a list on his phone and was always adding additional names. I just pulled it up and love that there is a blank space for number 15, clearly confident that he would meet yet another person with a September 2nd birthday!

Today is hard.

Because Michael was so much older than me and because of my stubborn refusal to age past twenty-five each year on my own birthdays, I used to say I would never catch up to him, the gap in our ages would only grow and grow as he kept on adding additional years while I stayed forever the same age. But now our roles have reversed. Michael will never age another day. Today may mark fifty-five years since he was born, but he will forever remain fifty-four years old. And one day, God-willing (and if I should choose to ever age past twenty-five), I will not only catch up to him, but surpass him. The gap in our ages will indeed grow and grow. The thought of this takes the breath right out of me as I can't imagine growing old without my Beloved right beside me.

Michael is one of five siblings, the exact middle child. His younger brother with the close birthdate will overtake Michael in a couple years, as will his youngest sister Heidi a few years after that. There's a huge possibility my sons will live longer than their Dad ever got the chance to. It's all so strange and unreal and most of the time I just notice things like this from the corner of my eye. But today we're viewing it front and center, blocking the view of anything else.

Tonight the boys and I went to Michael's favorite steak restaurant, a place overlooking the water and the Hong Kong International Airport with a breathtaking view of the sunset each night. It's inside a hotel where thanks to all our previous frequent traveling, I used to hold a Gold Membership. This ensured both excellent service and a generous discount, convenient considering the cost of a big steak in Hong Kong. We obviously didn't go last year, and due to no traveling at all since December of 2024 when Michael was diagnosed, I'm right back down to basic status. And yet, by some incredible grace, the service was anything but basic.

They treated us with gentle kindness, sat us in the best seat with the glorious sunset view, brought us three full-sized complimentary deserts, including one with "Happy Birthday Michael" drizzled in chocolate on the plate and topped with a candle, and still gave me the generous discount despite my reduced status! Honestly, the only thing that could have possibly made the evening more pleasant would have been to have Michael there himself. Turns out the huge 900g bone-in porterhouse we order every year to share really is more of a four person meal – the three of us couldn't finish it without him.

I don't know if Michael would have loved this birthday celebration, but I know he would love to see his family so well taken care of on this day where we pause to remember him and share our gratitude for having a husband and father so irreplaceable, so beloved, and so deeply missed. What a gift.

More soon.