Don't Worry Be Happy... Birthday
Today you would be 63 years old. I would have already called you to decide where we were going to grab a casual bite to eat. You would say “it’s just another day” and I’d argue with you that it was a special day, it was important. It was your birthday! How about Market Barbeque? The 50’s Grill?! Come on dad I could really go for a banana malt. We could share one like old times. I wouldn’t have to twist your arm too hard and I could always feel the smile on the other side of the phone. Even when we get older and it is “just another day” full of tasks and bills and laundry, it feels good when someone wants to celebrate you existing.
Who knew that three years ago today would have been the last day I’d ever see you again… your last birthday in the flesh, our last hug, and the last time I’d share a banana malt with you. I close my eyes and visit that day whenever I’m missing you so much I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to breathe again. It’s nice to have a rewind button sometimes.
They sat us at a table in the farthest back corner of the restaurant. This is where they send large families with booming voices and spunky little two year olds to share a table with a mop bucket and the emergency exit sign. Little did they know that it wouldn’t be the kids to cause all the commotion. It was Rocky who spilled a full glass of water on the ground before he even made it into his seat. Thank goodness we were within reach of the mop...
Jameson claimed his spot right next to you and Kellan quickly settled next to Jameson. I had forfeited my chatting chair next to DaddyO, but it was okay. I had already had so many dinner table conversations with you over the years and now Jameson was getting his turn. I couldn’t hear most of what you guys were talking about but I could just see how soft your face was when you talked to him and how his eyes beamed and hung on your every syllable. I hit the record button. My heart was melting and I was so happy that you were my dad and he got you for a grandpa. At one point you asked him to see his teeth and commented that he had inherited your terrible underbite, poor kid.
You told me to make sure I got braces on him and then went on to ask him about school and sports and life as a nine year old. Somewhere in between there you quietly ordered a burger and a glass of milk. Who still orders a tall glass of milk with dinner? Dakotah was at his first sleep over and missed seeing you that night. I snuck away during dinner to call him and make sure he was having fun and didn’t miss us too much. Kellan was up and down and all around like a typical almost three year old. I kept him somewhat busy with crayons and ice cubes but he was like a magnet who kept being pulled in your general direction just so he could lean up against your arm and giggle. You ordered us a banana malt and even though now I was a grown woman with two little boys wrestling for your attention you’d still shoot me a wink as if to say “how’s your banana malt sweetpea”…
There was a somber tone at the table that night because the news had just broken of the Colorado movie theater shooting. Rocky and Brandon were passionately debating weapons and conceal and carry and mental illness and the kids were scarfing down their ice cream dipped French fries. You were so quiet at the end of the table and didn’t offer much to the conversation except at one point you shook your head with total defeat in your eyes and said that the world was such a sad place and you didn’t understand why things had to be this way. Looking back now I study this frame of the night. There was a seriousness to your voice I hadn’t heard before. Did you soul know it was almost time to go? On some level could you feel it? Did you feel the clock ticking?
After dinner the kids begged us to play games in the 1950’s retro living room set up at the front of the restaurant. Jameson asked you if you’d play checkers with him. Without skipping a beat you pulled up a chair even though you were ready for that after dinner smoke. You started teaching him strategy while your long legs popped out from the tiny table and your cigarette pack hung from your pocket. Kellan had found the old west gun game and was off in the distance putting on his best Billy the Kid impression. You all looked so cute sitting at that table and it was so wild to watch you teach and love my child the way you did for me. I normally have my camera out every chance I get and snap away hoping to never miss a moment. I grabbed my camera but hesistated for a moment. It was ackward. I was torn. I knew how much you didn’t like having your picture taken and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or break up the moment. I sat there for a minute but something kept nudging me in the shoulder. I felt compelled and didn’t care if you liked it or not… I wanted some pictures! Thank God I listened to that nudge because that is all I have left of you now.
The pictures in my mind are starting to fade. I’m starting to forget what your face looks like when you speak, how you look when you walk into a room. I’m forgetting how you sound when you talk or how it feels to hug you… but I can’t think about that for too long. It’s too hard, too much. It’s like losing a limb. You can’t imagine how you’ll ever live again without it. How can you do without something that has made you feel whole and complete. How do you ever make things normal? But with each day you keep waking up and little by little you learn to live your new normal. You cope, you manage, you survive, and one day you even smile again.
Holidays and birthdays are an interesting mix, I'm beginning to notice over these past few years. I yearn to see you one more time. I take myself back to the parking lot that night standing there saying goodbye. If I had known it was the last time, I would have hugged you longer. I wouldn't have let go. I would have given you two kisses on your cheek instead of one. I feel that empty pit even more on these special days, yet at the same time I feel so close to you. Tonight we are going to celebrate you existing, even though we can’t see your face anymore. I wanted to call you and let you pick the spot but I know you’d never pass up a banana malt. I wanted to hear you smile on the other side of the line but even though I can’t hear it, I can feel it. We will meet you there and we’ll save you a chair. Now Jameson teaches his brother the checkers strategies you taught him. We’ll put some Elvis on the jukebox and send some birthday love up to heaven. And when my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I start to think about how much I wish I could hug you in the parking lot when we leave to go home tonight I’ll hear you in my mind and in my heart whispering “See you later Alligator…. Don’t worry, be happy”
