When someone dies, you focus on the good things - everything you miss. But dammit, Dad could also be a pain in the ass. Every year he'd rubbish me for banging on about my birthday and I used to get so annoyed at him. I didn't think I did go on about my birthday, and if I did, what of it? Was it some great character flaw? I wasn't my sister in law, who partied for the entire month of August when her special day came around, or like those who book overseas trips to celebrate their life on this planet.

Truth be told, I hate birthdays. There's always this expectation to perform. To be grateful. To celebrate. To enjoy.

It's only a fucking day. Like any other day.

And this year, my swirly watery Cancerian emotions did not want a birthday.

This was the second birthday after Dad died, and the other one was only two weeks after he gasped his last, so that didn't count.

^{my dad could be a pain in the ass}

For everything I hated about Dad's teasing, I just wanted him around teasing.

But even beyond the grave, there it was: I'm making a fuss. I'm being over emotional. I'm overreacting. I'm over excited. Like 'over' is a dirty word.

In English we say 'the apple doesn't fall from the tree'. Dad was good at 'over'. Over impatient. Over enthusiastic. Perhaps you tease others for what some part of you recognise in your own self.

In an immature, childish, miss my father kinda way, I protested. I'll show you, my child self went. I just won't HAVE a fucking birthday.

dum, dum, dum, dum, dum

I went into Facebook, and changed my birthday to private. That should stop the passers by I never see saying 'happy birthday' with some random emoji. I stole Jamie's phone and unfriended me on his account, so if someone said 'happy birthday', he wouldn't see it, and he wouldn't get the reminder.

For two weeks, I have said nothing about my birthday. Not one thing. Not even 'I'm not painting the house on Saturday because it's my birthday'.

Jamie was so busy, and I didn't want to bother him. That's not making a fuss over my birthday, is it? He's been working full time and painting and painting and painting, white walls of hell forever. Poor guy. I didn't want him to fuss over my birthday, worry about the present he hasn't had time nor head space to get. I didn't want him worrying that I was 'having a nice day' and then be asked constantly if I'm 'having a nice day' and having to respond.

So on the morning of my birthday, we woke up, had a shag, had a giggle, had a coffee in bed, showered together, talked about the day and what we were going to do to the house. It was lovely. I was thinking to myself: 'this is a lovely birthday morning'.

Then, my Grandson foiled my plan by video calling and singing me Happy Birthday. He's 3, and he has been practicing, because it was his birthday on Wednesday and today (Sunday) we are having lunch in the park and he wants to join in the singing when we cut the cake. Jamie looked at me in horror.

'Why didn't you remind me?' he said.

Now, in an ideal world I wouldn't have to. Why should I have to remind people of my own birthday? Isn't it their job to remember? And according to my father, banging on about it was - 'over' the top. I had said something a few weeks ago. And surely, he should have set a reminder in his phone? Plus, I didn't care and want a birthday. As expected, my birthday was ruined by merit of being a birthday where I shouldn't have an expectations placed upon me. But there was my husband, mortally wounded, and I had to fix him.

This involved me saying 'get over it, it's my birthday, don't you dare crack the sads'. Which he did.

And then I proceeded to have a nice birthday. My sister and my nephews rang and sang happy birthday. So did my Mum. Dad didn't, the prick, by merit of being a ghost. Mum came over and we walked into town and she shouted me breakfast and gave me some money for trainers. We painted walls. My sister came by and gave me a bottle of wine and brother in law a bag of chocolate coated almonds. My uncle (Dad's brother) send me a text that was three birthday cake emoji and a thumbs up.

When I got home, we ate left over Greek pasta bake because some super clever person a.k.a me had made a massive tray of it the day before in anticipation of my birthday.

I realised that the only reason I spent weeks reminding people it was my birthday coming up was because I wanted to hang out with family. It was a good excuse for us all to hang out together. To feel loved. That was it.

I wasn't 'over' anything.

I was just a girl, wanting her fam.

Dum, dum, dum, dum-a-dum
Dum-dum-dum, dum, dum, dum
Dum, dum, dum, dum-a-dum
Dum-dum-dum, dum, dum, dum - Sugarcubes 'Birthday'

*Crack the sads - The phrase "crack the sads" is an Australian slang expression that means to get upset, mad, or unhappy. It is often used in a context where a person has reached a point of frustration and is responding angrily or throwing a tantrum. For example, someone might say, "I said I couldn't go out, so he cracked the sads," indicating that the person was upset about the situation. - From The Online Slang Dictionary.