birthday cake Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Blueberry-lemon birthday cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Birthday

Some of you may have caught on to the deeper meaning when I wished you a “Happy 13^th of August” last night. In spite of the foundation upon which all of my posts are founded (my 1111 Devotion), I try not to be too maudlin about the life (and death) of my eldest son, Karl Daniel. But whether I mention it or not, August 13^th will always be the anniversary of his birthday.

Every year is a little bit different. And it doesn’t progress in a linear fashion, believe me. If it did, I’d be breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that every single year would bring me just that little bit less sadness, just a slightly diminished tendency to wonder what his life would be like now, who he’d be, what he’d be doing in the world right now.

But life isn’t like that. Death isn’t like that. When it first hits you, especially as a parent enduring that freaking nightmare of losing a child (regardless of whether they’re 3 months, 3 years, or 30 years when they die) most of us feel we might very well lose our minds before ever coming to terms with the reality of losing our baby forever.

For most of us, though, the searing pain at first loss that we feel will never ease, never diminish (indeed, that we vow we’ll never let go of – for to lose that edge will somehow, we feel, lessen the importance of their life to both us and to the world) inexplicably does. And honestly, at least for me, it was involuntary. I did not want to lose that edge.

Life Goes On

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I wanted to wear that loss on my vest and claim it as a defining, debilitating, characteristic of my life. The exact opposite, as a matter of fact. I wanted the gaping hole in my heart that belongs to my eldest son to spur me on to helping others cope with their grief when faced with similar loss.

So as we’re told in lyrics and poems, life goes on. We rail against it, when the loss is fresh. We secretly damn the people who tell us ‘time heals all wounds’ – most of the ones who say that have never felt the sense of having a phantom limb haunting us that losing one of our children creates. They think losing a parent is the same thing.

It’s not.

They think losing a sibling is the same thing.

It’s not.

Forgiveness

But ultimately, we have to extend to the people around us the most exquisite (and sometimes hardest to come by) gift: forgiveness. Most are doing the best they can to comfort us at a time when we’re experiencing something that simply blows their minds. And at the same time, it’s incumbent upon us to extend that same olive branch of forgiveness to our very own selves.

Yes, eventually – even if we try really hard to keep it at the forefront and make our lives center around it – the nearly unbearable pain of losing our child will eventually withdraw into the background of our lives. It’s at once surprising, unsettling, sad, and a relief. And a little guilt-inducing as well.

If we really loved them, would we ever allow ourselves to lose that edge? It’s a question that has a hollow and unsatisfactory answer.

My Point

The point I started to make when I began this post was that you just never know when the grief is going to sneak up behind you and clobber you over the head.

Upon waking this morning I felt a genuine heaviness around my heart. I’d sensed Karl ‘around’ a couple days earlier, but didn’t particularly feel him today. When I did notice him a few days ago, it made me realize that his ‘visits,’ if you can even call them that, are much more infrequent nowadays. And while I can appreciate that this happens, and why, it nevertheless makes me sad.

So I decided to bake a cake. What the heck. For 30 years I’d made a point of baking (or procuring) two cakes within the span of one week, since his father’s birthday is only four days before my son’s.

Only this time I decided to make something totally different. A vanilla cake. (I’ve never made one of those before. Not even once!) And it would have blueberries and lemon going on to make it special and festive. I rationalized that this would be the type of cake I’d buy at my favorite bakery, Crossroads, and almost certainly did for not a few birthdays over the years.

So here it is. The fruit of my reminiscing about my son and celebrating what should have been his 39th birthday today.

Never assume that just because it’s been a bunch of years since the loss of a child that their memory and how much they are missed has diminished.

Looks sloppy, but tastes yummy – Photo: L. Weikel

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Aunt Grace’s Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

Aunt Grace’s Cake

As I predicted almost seven months ago, I’m finally writing about the cake that was the ‘official’ birthday cake in my home when I was growing up.

First of all, let me just state for the record that I find it absolutely astounding that it’s been almost seven months (just five days shy, so close enough in my book) since I first wrote about Aunt Grace’s Cake. I first brought it up in the post I wrote about Carol’s Chocolate Cake – the cake I traditionally baked as the ‘go to’ birthday cake while my sons were growing up.

As mentioned in that post, my son prefers Carol’s Chocolate Cake because he’s a traditionalist, and that’s the one he grew up on.

But my daughter-in-law just goes for the gold. And if you recall, she’d lobbied for my son to ask for ‘the walnut cake’ when I asked him which cake he wanted me to bake him for his birthday back in in the spring.

Tiffany’s Birthday

Today is Tiffany’s birthday. Yea!

Needless to say, I had no question which cake she was hoping I’d make for her birthday. I didn’t even need to ask.

It’s interesting, though, to observe how Aunt Grace’s Cake is making a resurgence into the lead as birthday cake of choice in our household. I guess a walnut torte is more of a refined taste than a totally decadent chocolate cake. But honestly? I really don’t think it’s a case of walnuts vs. chocolate.

The biggest reason I don’t think so is because the icing of the walnut torte (aka Aunt Grace’s Cake) is made with three bars of melted chocolate, half a pound of butter, a pound of confectioner’s sugar, three eggs and three tablespoons of a secret ingredient.

Bottom line? It’s a nearly orgasmic chocolate buttercream icing. Until you’ve tasted it, you haven’t really lived.

And the walnut torte itself is, well, the perfect complement.

I may not offer a vast repertoire of birthday menu selections. But even I have to admit: the couple of options I do offer have stood the test of time. These confections also make it exceedingly difficult to write a blog post after ingesting a generous piece of either, for a sugar coma lurks dangerously close by as a result, especially this late at night.

I have to say: baking either of these cakes is a wonderfully satisfying way to express my love for my family. I hope they feel it and know it with each luscious bite.