Birthdays

It was D's birthday yesterday. It was his fourth birthday that I have been involved with (that was such a bad English structure, sorry). Time goes by so fast. And I still can't believe that I am marrying my upstairs neighbor. Three years ago I had this mini crush on my upstairs neighbor and now I will be marrying him in less than four months. Wow... Life is weird.

Three years ago also, for his birthday, I bought him a little cake because he was so cute, and he was sooooo thin. We were just neighbors and kind of friends.... And it was his birthday. It was a chocolate cheesecake. I didn't know at the time that his favorite cake was carrot cake and I didn't know either that that thinness was so easy to disappear. I got him a big carrot cake this time with a "Happy Birthday David" and these crazy candles that I found in a drawer here at home and that didn't want to stop burning. I was sure that the fire alarm was going to go off at the restaurant. But no, it didn't.

It was a fun birthday but I really wish that D and I could stay this old forever. I know that there is nothing better than aging gracefully and gratefully but ... really, really, I don't want to get old. And I don't want D to get old either. And, obviously, it's not really that I fear wrinkles and gray hair. I fear endings. I fear good-byes.

My grandfather is 90 years old. He won't be with us for a long time. Fortunately, he is in very good spirits and with no pain but he might not make it for the wedding. I am really sad about that. He was able to go to all of my cousins' weddings (the ones that have gotten married) and I am sad that he might not be with us for our wedding. It is so weird to think that he might not be there in a few months. He has always been such a strong figure in the family. He was always happy, and loud, and funny, and full of life. He was bigger than life (as they say in this country). And he still is but to a lesser degree, I think. He still calls me "güera" (blonde) because I live in the US. And he was always been so giving, so generous, so warm. I keep telling myself that if he has to go now, he lived ninety fantastic and plentiful years. But I don't like endings.

Someone very close to me (who knows my fear for endings) has tried to make me understand for the past two years that everything in life is transitory. That everything in nature is in continuous change; that plants, flowers, and animals are born and die. That everything that has life ends. And I understand that. I am not that dense. But... but... but... When I hear about the men and women that die in "the war" ... I mean. They're gone. My friend Maria Luisa died of cancer three years ago. She's no more, she's not talking, she's not painting, she's not laughing. And that is very sad.

Stop. Stop. Stop. This was about a birthday. And we had a good time last night.