Happy Birthday Dad

Yesterday was Dad's birthday. He was surprised, last year, that he made it to 70. "I made it," he whispered hoarsely into the phone when I called. 

My dad used to like to tell this story of how when I was 9 months old he sat holding me on his knee, in his own house, watching men walk on the moon on his birthday. He'd say "I was just thinking man, the whole world has changed."

I always liked that story, and it's always been the "Dad Birthday Story" in my brain. They walked on the moon for his birthday. How nice of them, what a lovely thing to do.

However in my musings yesterday I was combing my memories for OTHER dad birthday memories and I can't remember any. I feel pretty terrible about that. I can't remember going anywhere or doing anything special for my dad. I can't remember getting him anything. It's like - Dad's birthday didn't matter. I know that isn't true but still, I'm blank.

It makes me feel pretty awful. I want to have these good, happy memories of those days and I don't. I won't ever get to make new ones so that's clearly an opportunity I let slip away from me in this life. I didn't know I didn't have it until I tried to remember.

I can tell you though, about a NOT birthday memory. Before Matt was born, one summer day, my Mom said "OH MY GOD WE MISSED YOUR FATHER'S BIRTHDAY!" in a panic.She asked me repeatedly WHEN was his birthday but as I was probably around 8, I didn't really know. So we bustled into the kitchen to whip up a cake before he got home. We were somewhere in the process of making the icing when I asked her why we just didn't call grandma to make sure the date was right.

So she called my Grandma B, and shortly got off the phone laughing. It was June 21st. She was a month off.

Dad came home and we had a cake just for fun and mom & I grinned across the table at each other.

I like to think we actually made a cake again the next month, but I actually have no idea. Surely we did.

Happy Birthday Dad.