Cough, cough, hack, hack.
I breathe a sigh of relief at the sign of my dad's alive-ness once again. I put my feet on the floor and creep out of bed. Today is a little different though. Today is his 85th birthday.
|Pretty much what me & Dad look like with cake.|
Also I spend about as much time in my undies
with my dad as they do. Creepy, but true.
(Hef & Ladyfriend at his 85th B-Day,
photo Forrest Lee, no relation)
We don't seem to put as many bells and whistles on his birthdays as we used to, maybe because we don't want to scare him to death. Maybe because every day he's with us is a small milestone so when holidays roll around we don't have the same wave of guilt washing over us that this one "might be the last" as we have for those relatives who haven't lived under the same roof with us. We just treasure all the days the same.
I also try to make every day a learning opportunity for my kids. So I asked Clayton,
"Hey, if Grandpa is eighty-five today, and you are five, how much older does that make Grandpa than you?"
"I don't know. Fifty?"
We need to work on math some more I guess.
There's a birthday on the other end of the time-capsule spectrum today, and it's my baby sister Sara's. She, like my dad, was brought to me through an amazingly twisted path of fate and fairytale that I'd never take back in a million years. She has my pinky toes, my green eyes, and my heart. She's strong, she's smart, and she's one of the most beautiful people I know. I love her to death and miss her to pieces.
Every year on today's date I find it unbelievably ironic that these two souls, the old and the young that are at seemingly opposite ends of my life share this birthday. But the more I think about it the more it seems just about right.
Happy Birthday you two....let's have cake.