My eyelids flutter as sunshine comes into my room. I slowly open them, happy to see a break in the rain. Stretching I reach for my phone to see if Ev has texted me for an early walk, not yet. I scan social media and the first post I see is a beautiful picture of my mom and dad, a photo I took at least 35 years ago. I read my sister’s words, a lovey tribute to our parents, a celebration of their lives. Bittersweet, I smile and cry at the same time. I miss them, we all miss them.
Today would have been my dad’s 80th birthday. I try to imagine his aging face, but I can only see him at sixty-nine, still handsome, fit and strong, walking the beach trail and playing soccer with me. I suppose I am lucky that I never had to see him grow old and frail. So many of my friends watch helplessly as their parents disappear slowly over time . . . that’s hard too.
Closing my eyes, I conjure up the sound of his voice. He is giving advice or laughing. Man, what I wouldn’t give to feel the softness of his beard against my cheek as I kiss him just one more time. An impossible wish I know. I sigh, grateful for the guest appearances he makes in my dreams, or the times he magically possesses my brother or my son. I quietly capture those moments, careful not to break the spell of his presence.
I miss his support most, his wonderful wisdom. As I work through my most recent challenges, I remember his words , “Girls, you were born at a time when you can be or do anything you want.”
Happy Birthday Dad 🙂
I am doing my damnedest to be and do exactly what I want.
You would be proud.
I love you and miss you every day.