He Would Have Been 77 Years Old
Today is my Dad’s fake birthday. He would have been 77 years old. Why is it his fake birthday? Because his real birthday was in April, but then one of my brothers was born in April (one day before my Dad’s birthday) so my mom moved my Dad’s birthday. Oddly, not to the same numerical date in a different month; perhaps simply to the day of the week that suited that particular year. Just like that. And from what I understand, with no questions asked.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about March 11 this year, particularly since Roll is due to arrive any minute. And because I miss my Dad. And because I wish Laurel could remember him beyond photographs. And because I wish my Dad was alive to meet Roll.
But I’m a silver lining type of gal. My Dad died a couple of months before Laurel turned one, but we spent a lot of time with him during his last year. This picture was taken October 2004, when Laurel was less than a month old. I love the way they’re eyeballing each other.
And this photo is circa 1980. This picture makes me smile -- not only because of the impressive collection of bowl cuts, but because my Dad was really hard on us when we were kids, yet ultimately, there was no way any of us could not smile when he was smiling.
I love and miss you Dad. Happy birthday.