For the tenth time, we've experienced Simon's birthday without Simon. Ten times. His time absent in body has long surpassed the time he was given to live. That's how time and mortality work.
What to do? How do you spend this day? The first several years we sought community and held lemonade stands to raise money for pediatric cancer research in Simon's memory with our friends at Liberty Heights Fresh in Salt Lake City. The very first year we had a full birthday party at the house with Simon's friends, complete with a visit from Marcus the Clown, who had entertained Simon at his Celebration of Life about a month before he died.
Since coming to Germany in 2010, we've been more private and improvisatory. This year, Simon's birthday was a Saturday. We talked about things to do--a walk in a botanical garden, an excursion to the Kletterpark (where you strap yourself on and test your balance on ropes in trees). But we ended up taking it easy at home.
Miriam and I both slept in a bit and woke to find that Markus had made pancakes for breakfast. He had lit the Simon candle:
I lit a second candle. Throughout the long day, we lit candles from the Simon candle as we felt inspired.
Markus had set the breakfast table for four. In front of Simon's place, he put three votive candles. He set the place with an empty coffee mug and an empty water glass. I mentioned the coffee cup, and Markus said he figured Simon would be drinking coffee at 17. I mentioned the empty water glass, when our other three were filled. Yes, Simon doesn't actually need it filled, does he?
I ate my pancakes Simon-style. Markus and Miriam have foresworn butter as an unnecessary source of calories, but I took the chance today to dot butter across Markus' light and fluffy whole wheat pancakes. I enjoyed them in full memory of Simon. I talked about Simon's appreciation of butter on pancakes during Simon's memorial service, and you can read those remarks on simonsplace.org. Look for the section called "Simon the Delighted" for the pancake comment, but I recommend reading the whole tribute to a wonderful child.
Markus surveyed the yard after breakfast and decided to spend time today on the backyard sculpture. He cleaned it and inserted more sand under the base to adjust its slight lean. The sculpture is by Utah artist Chris Coleman, and it preceded the one we commissioned for Simon's Salt Lake City grave (slide show 4).
I spent time in the garden clearing out all the clover and other weeds and preparing the soil for this year's pumpkins. Amid the remaining tulip leaves, you can see five yellow markers. I sometimes start seeds indoors on (or near) Simon's birthday. This year, with the spring so advanced, I've stuck seeds directly in the ground. Two of the seeds come from the original Simon's pumpkin (January 2, 2008 entry). The others came from pumpkins I've grown here other years.
For dinner, we picked sushi, the kind I've made for years to everyone's pleasure, rolling nori and rice around steamed carrot, cucumber, avocado, and "sushi egg". Everyone loves it, every time. Sushi egg reminds us especially of Simon because I used to make it for him around 9:00 pm the nights before he had an NPO appointment at the hospital the next morning. When he wouldn't be allowed to eat breakfast, he had breakfast at bedtime instead. Sushi egg was his usual choice.
Miriam doesn't want to be in my postings, so that's a sliver of her across from Markus. While setting the table for dinner, we noticed several things. The placemat Markus found for Simon's place is less faded than the other three. The fourth pair of chopsticks was in a different drawer from the others. Laying out a place for Simon and putting those items away again was a mindful ritual. I'm glad we did it. Simon left a great big space behind him. It feels right to recognize the space. Perhaps we can even use the space--a place to grow, a place to breathe, a place to renew. (I wouldn't do it every day, but it felt fitting to honor his place among us for his birthday.)
Sam and Simon-the-Cat are still here! The boys will be 11 in August. They came to us half a year before Simon died. They watched over him as he lay dying. Now they offer us--especially Sam, especially Miriam--enduring companionship.
Markus made this year's strawberry pie.
The candle burned all day. It's still burning. I'll blow it out on my way into bed. Goodnight, Simon. We love you.
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