My Re-Birth Day

A Keeping It Real Post

Last week, on D’s deathiversary, I posted a photo on my social media and called it my Re-Birth Day. And while I don’t feel the need to explain myself to the raised eyebrows, I want to.

After D’s first deathiversary, when I collapsed in a drunk, sobbing heap on the floor of my bedroom, I made it my mission never again to honor or ritualize the worst day of my life. Instead, I chose to celebrate July 10th as my Re-Birth Day. That’s how I’ve referred to it in my head for the last three years, even if last week was the first time I said it publicly.

As painful as it was (no wonder newborns come kicking and screaming into this world), it was the first day of my new life. It took a long time, but I learned to walk, laugh, and live the heck out of this life in a way I’d never done before he died. I chose to make the most of the time I had left, no matter how hard or scary it may appear. Looking back, I know it took me losing everything to finally learn how to live.

So there you have it. My Re-Birth Day has nothing to do with disrespecting D and everything to do with loving myself. And here’s the thing: you don’t have to lose a loved one to have your own Re-Birth Day. I hope you don’t wait too long to have one. The clock is ticking.

XOXO,
Lisa
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.