I knew the day was coming. I had been trying to mentally prepare myself for it.
As I sit here, I realize, no matter how much I tried to prepare myself, today is yet another emotional hurdle I will need to get through.
Today would have been my dad’s birthday. He would have been 82.
I can’t call him to tell him “happy birthday” and hear him act surprised that I remembered. He always knew that I would remember, yet had to act like he didn’t. That surprised reaction was always followed by a laugh.
I can’t stop by to see him.
All I can do is sit here, alone with my memories.
My dad had a long life compared to many. With all of the risky things he did when he was younger, combined with his numerous serious health problems in later years, he was blessed in that he had over 81 years on this Earth. I realize that.
I am thankful that he was around for so long. Being as I lost my mom to cancer when I was 16 years old, I know what it is like to not have so many years with a parent.
Yes, I have experienced the loss of a parent before. I have experienced birthdays, holidays, and other meaningful dates after that loss. After all of these years, I still feel the loss and sadness of losing my mom. Those feelings get stirred up and take on a different level of sadness on certain notable dates.
Having been through this with the loss of my mom, still does not prepare me for or lessen the sadness I am experiencing from the loss of my dad. Each loss had and continues to have it’s own unique pain. Each loss has left a unique gap in my life.
I am happy that my dad had so many years. I know that he had moments that made him happy and gave him joy. I am thankful that he was blessed with 81 years.
Today is just an awkward day for me.
It feels empty in that I can no longer do anything that I would normally do on this day; call or visit my dad. It feels strange to realize this use to be a day to celebrate, but now it is an emotional hurdle that I need to work through.
But, “Hey, dad, I will be okay“, some how, some way, just as I told you I would.
Happy birthday, dad . . . .