January 10, 2015

One year ago today, my dad celebrated his 77th birthday.  It was a Friday.  Dad had dialysis that morning, so I knew he would spend a good portion of the afternoon napping, since the dialysis wore him out.  I didn't want to wake him, so I decided to wait until later in the evening to call him.

As often happens, I got to work and lost track of time.  When I realized I still needed to call Dad, it was after 9 PM.  Mom usually goes to bed pretty early, so I was worried about waking her and couldn't decide if I should call, or wait until the next morning.  I had finally decided to wait, when something inside told me it was important that I call that night, and that if I woke Mom, she would forgive me.

So I called.   

It was a brief call.  Dad and I chatted for 5 to 10 minutes is all.  But I got to tell him happy birthday, on his birthday.  Had I not made that call, I would still be regretting it today.

None of us had any idea that just two days later we would say our final goodbye.

Dad always enjoyed a cold beer.  Over the last several years he wasn't able to enjoy one as often as he used to, but every once in a while he and I would sit down and have a beer together.  We'd talk, we'd laugh, and he would inevitably tell me a story.  Sometimes I had already heard it, and sometimes it was new.  But it never mattered.  He was an amazing story teller, and I always enjoyed listening.  I miss those times with my dad, but I look back on those memories and smile.  I wouldn't trade those moment for anything!

In honor of his birthday this year, we went to the cemetery and shared a beer with Dad.  

We cried and we laughed, and I know he was there with us smiling and laughing, although he was probably a little annoyed that we were crying.  He wouldn't want us to cry.  He would only want us to look back on his life and smile, happy that we were part of it.

Here's to you, Dad!  Happy birthday!  I love you, and I miss you like crazy.