When I was a little girl this was our families birthday season. We began with my Mom on September 15th , followed one week later with my birthday, three days later it was my brother Ted's special day and days after followed my father's birthday.
Today my father would have turned 84. It is hard to realize, especially because at 56 I have now lived ten years longer than my father did. I still grieve his passing and I can still find that deep part of my soul that remembers it like it was yesterday. I cannot go there, because it still hurts to much.
I miss that my dad never knew me as an adult. I miss that he never knew my husband, or held his grandchildren. I miss so much. But in the way that all tragedies have the opportunity to teach us lessons, I learned at the age of eighteen that life is not certain, and each day is a gift that must be cherished.
I also found out that my Mom could be my best friend. At an age when young people are excited about college life, dating and just experiencing all the fun things young people do, I was a sad girl who could find no joy in any of those things. So my Mom became my companion at antiwar rallies, concerts and together we found a way to move forward with less pain and more optimism. There were more silver linings to our cloud....I met Jim. He was the one person who could understand my sadness. He had lost his father too, and together we grew in friendship that later became love. It was my mother who knew when he came to the door that he would be the one that I would marry.
So this day would have been a celebration...maybe a lemon meringue pie, which my Dad loved more than cake. We would have silently been happy the season was over. So many birthdays in such a short time. This day never passes that I don't think of my Dad. His love and devotion to his family, his intense sensitivity and caring nature. I have never stopped missing him. Happy Birthday Papa. You are always in my heart.