My birthday was yesterday. I’m officially closer to 40 than I am to 30. It feels very, well, adult.

Not that what we’ve been dealing with the last 2 years hasn’t been adult.

October is a strange-feeling month for me. It used to be my favorite. Fall. Fair. Birthday. But now, it has a lot more baggage. It reminds me of how I felt in those first few weeks – the not knowing, the tests, the tears.

It was the start of it around this time 2 years ago – Hurricane Matthew left an indelible mark on North Carolina – and smushed the back of my Honda Fit. It remained under a tarp for several weeks. My birthday came around, but moments after that, my grandmother died. We had my family over for dinner – we all wanted to be together. What they didn’t know then was that we had just found out from Preston’s doctor’s that his abdominal pain was probably colon cancer, and that the spots in his lungs meant that it was stage 4.

We literally got that call an hour before 14 people came over for dinner. We mostly kept it to ourselves, though I did drop the bomb on my mother.

A few days later, we had a small graveside service and a funeral. It’s strange – I didn’t really get a chance to mourn my grandmother. I loved her very much, but I remember being so worried about Preston that I didn’t really have the energy to process her death.

She also gave me cover. I’m not really a crier. Never have been. (for the record, my therapist finds this confusing, but has definitely stopped suggesting I “have a good cry.” Because. No.)

But during those weeks before we really knew, it gave me some space to be sad without having to talk about what was actually going on.

Trips to the fair remind me of when we took Conor just before the diagnosis with my mother in law and my dad. I vividly remember talking to Erin while perusing the gardens, “I just wish we knew.”

I remember facilitating a big event at work all the while knowing that Preston was having his PET scan at that very moment – the results of which would be so important.

Halloween was just before surgery #1 – Conor dressed up as Batman. We did “trunk or treat” that Sunday (even though Preston was feeling terrible) and somewhere around 4 AM on November 1st, we headed to the ER because the colonoscopy prep wasn’t working.

So yeah. October memories are a bit different now.

It’s hard to believe it has been 2 years, but some days it feels like it’s been decades, and other times it feels like yesterday. It does not feel like yesterday for Preston – he’s had 22 rounds of chemotherapy, 7 surgeries, a million doctors appointments, and two tattoos (Ok, I guess the tattoos count as fun things.)

His strength and attitude absolutely amazes me. While I do think he has more good days than bad, I also know that he spends a lot of energy putting up a good front for Conor and me. He goes along with my crazy ideas for family outings, humors my need to take obscene amounts of pictures, and takes care of Conor so I can do things like game night with my friends and tap class. He also manages to help cook dinner and do laundry.

Our parents have also been extraordinary. They’ve taken Conor out for adventures, had him for sleepovers, put him to bed when I had tap class, and just been a massive help. So many others have helped out with Conor (Shout out to Ray and Debora who added him in with his cousins for a teacher workday – he had so much fun!) and sent gift cards, and cheer-up cards, and met me for wine, and gone out to lunch, and asked about Preston, and not asked about Preston, and checked in on us and and and and.

Thanks.

For my birthday, Preston is taking us camping this weekend. He got me a fancy princess camping sleep system (I think it is to give this a fighting chance to happen again) and a cast iron skillet to use over the fire. I’m excited.

I also got a tattoo. A big one. It’s a bluebird. He’s beautiful.

My sister gave us tickets to Aziz Ansari in Durham tomorrow night – there will be much laughter.

I’m going to use my birthday money from my parents to buy new tap shoes.

My friends Allyn and Danielle took me out for tacos and margaritas. My friends Ret and Tori took me to lunch at Bida Manda.

Dad and I took Conor to the Fair.

We’ll celebrate with Shruthi and Mike with dinner on Sunday.

Conor had a T-ball game on my actual birthday, and he played really well and the weather was cool and I didn’t get any mosquito bites.

Then I went to hip hop class and danced and laughed until my face hurt.

I started and ended my day with a slice of yellow cake with chocolate icing that my mom made.

All in all, pretty great start to 36.

But all I really want for my birthday – this one and every one from here until forever – is for Preston’s cancer to go away.