A Birthday Remembrance

Today is my father’s birthday. I won’t use the past tense for that, even though he isn’t alive to celebrate it. I think of him today as I have always thought of him – vibrant, funny, and loving; fascinated with nearly everything; passionate about life; a little “surprising” in his eccentricities on occasion; always ready with an opinion about nearly anything – welcome and requested mostly, but sometimes not. Bushy eyebrows, easy smile, twinkly eyes. For me, he is simply still there.

I certainly know all his opinions by now anyway. And they are great opinions. I even agree with many of them. And the older I get, the more that is true – just a little scary! I know his jokes and most of his ‘stories.’

When he became ill, friends told me that the important thing was to make sure we all had an opportunity to say what we wanted to say to him. As we went through that time I came to think that advice was wrong. I thought the more important thing was that he be able to say what HE wanted to say. But that forced me to wonder, over the past two years, if he had the time, or the peace of mind, or the energy to do that – which has been an upsetting speculation. His illness came on too suddenly, and was too difficult to manage in all its medications and complications. It took him, and us, so much by surprise, that we were never really able to adjust to it. And we certainly didn’t want to say good-bye.

But now…

Now I think neither ‘us saying to him,’ or ‘him saying to us’ really counted at all, at that point. He had 79 years to both talk and listen, and he did both, in abundance. I am doing him a disservice to focus on his last 6 months – and I am resolved to stop doing that. That wasn’t the ‘key’ time in his life. That part has no right to overshadow the rest. It isn’t the end that matters. It is the “being.”

I have to believe that he’s satisfied with it all. He earned the deep love and respect of many; he possessed both intellect and integrity; his life was full and varied and imaginative. Perhaps he wasn’t a saint – I’m not even sure he’d have wanted to be! But he sure was an interesting man. He had his share of disappointments and made a few mistakes, probably. He achieved tremendous successes, certainly. He enjoyed himself. And we should continue to celebrate that.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.