There would be no fireworks or explosive demarcation between the final night of my 40’s and the start of my 50’s, which is precisely how I wanted it. After we returned to the condo after dinner, I finished a couple of thank you letters I’d written for early birthday presents and told Andy I was going to mail them. I headed out into the night – the last night as a 49-year-old.
The short length of Braddock Park was finished too soon for my mind’s wandering. I pushed the letters into the mailbox at the end of the street, and continued on. I was not quite ready to end the evening, not quite ready to leave my 40’s. It was silly, but the heart sometimes overrules the mind, and the evening was so beautiful I kept walking.
At every happy crux in my life, I’ve found myself alone and in solitude for some small piece of time. It’s happened at various birthdays over the years, and most notably on my actual wedding day, when I found myself on my own in the Public Garden after everyone had gone to their hotels for a break before dinner. Andy was sleeping in our suite, and I stole off to the Garden to be with myself and mark the moment in my mind.
In some small way, I suppose I do that as a little reassurance and reminder that we are all, only and in the end, alone – even when we have loved ones near. It will one day be that way, hopefully nearer the end of my life, and I want to be ready and prepared for it.
On this night – the night before I turned 50 – I walked the streets of Boston – no longer haunted by my past, no longer haunted by my future. Beside me, I suddenly felt the unexpected yet reassuring presence of my father and uncle, as if they were walking me back home. Both had been with me at various times on Braddock Park, and both were with me now, as if they were telling me to carry the Ilagan name forward. I looked up to the glowing light from our window, where Andy was preparing for bed, and I let the last fifty years go.
