It's my birthday too..okay..pretty soon - February 18th
So, today is my birthday. This is the first one that I will "celebrate" without my Dad. As long as I can remember, I used to talk to both of my parents on my birthday and ask them - tell me about the day I was born. It did not matter if I was 5, 15, 25, or 45 - I asked the same question - and never got tired of asking the question. They would pass me back and forth to each other on the phone, talking to each other often about that day.
I am pretty sure that my mom will be thinking about him today...just like I will.
There is something about being born in February - for a short month, I have so many February birthday friends, and frankly, its a fairly dreadful month to be born in..why you ask?...when I look back on my birthdays, there is one more familiar theme than other..Wow - there is nothing like the flu to celebrate a birthday.
Maybe it goes back to the snowy cold day in Cleveland, Ohio when I made my clearly, unexpected appearance - a month early, Mom was on bed rest from placenta previa - nothing was going well for her - she was miserable, the weather was miserably cold, and she was sick as a dog. They called an ambulance that morning - but when they got her settled in they told my Dad that nothing was going to happen - go home and rest; tomorrow will be the big day. Of course, ever ambitious, I felt the need to enter the world as an Aquarian rather than a Pisces and came out kicking and screaming moments after 6 pm to the surprise of all. One month early - and kicking my way out - like a miserable little banshee. Mom, often reminds me of this -and Dad was home taking a nap.
To say that a 4 lb 6 oz baby is cute is an utter lie. I looked like an uncooked, plucked chicken in search of a pot. Only carrots, celery and a handful of parsley would've improved my appearance.
Flash Forward
When you are an adult, there is nothing better than having your birthday off, especially as a paid holiday. But when you are a peanut - you want to be the kid who brings in the cupcakes, everyone sings happy birthday and you get to wear some crazy crown. Having a birthday that is often celebrated with George & Abe makes that a hit or miss affair - that and SNOW.
You Can Vote, Drink & Attend Your Grandfather's Funeral - 18 SUCKS...
Well, my 18th birthday was a notable one. Two days before my birthday, my grandfather died. He died of Lung Cancer - just like my dad, nearly 29 years later. I remember that phone ringing in the middle of the night - and my 18th birthday spent "celebrating" my grandfather's life.
My dad, being pretty hip to the fact that this sucked, took me out on that snowy, miserable day and bought me a new to me ("used") car. It was a sweet, used car - a Pontiac Trans Am - black, gold and tricked out all over. Dad was a car man. We traded in the red Camaro with louvers..like I said - Dad loved cars.
So, for my 18th birthday I learned about death, fast cars, and how to move forward.
The Flu
It's really ironic that on February 18, 1966, Life Magazine's cover story was a picture of the Flu "Germ" and viruses. Because if there has been one constant on my birthday, it's been sudden, dreadful Flu-ness.. I think its a conspiracy...some big guy made a deal for this tiny, far too soon pipsqueak to drop in on the universe - in exchange for a series of shitty future February 18ths...
Of course, we spoke about my 18th birthday..let's fast forward to 22. It was a vastly above average day for State College, PA - sunny - 45 degrees - nearly summer. I woke up feeling great - had a terrific lunch - and by dinner time, had a 104 fever and was bouncing from the University Health Center to the local hospital, delirious with fever. It's the only time I have ever hallucinated..trust me, its over rated - and I am thankful for my friends who managed my care. It's safe to say - they owed me..I was the "21" babysitter for many of them.
You may ask about #21 - non-event - drinks at the Lions Den..dancing, no drama..after all - I had turned legal drinking age three year prior in Ohio...but I digress.
Fast forward to 25 - Irish Pub - Philadelphia. A regular haunt. A normal night - nothing special - hello flu for a week..trust me -a few beers at this advanced age do not = hangover...
Holy Smokes - DISNEY TOO
So, in in 1996, prior to being knocked up with our current kid, we decided to head to Disney to celebrate the big 30... We scored a room at the Contemporary last minute -which meant - WOO HOO - Chip & Dale breakfast with flying napkins for my big 3-0.... It started out with my favorite chipmunks...it ended with a queasy lunch at Planet Hollywood - an evening flight home hugging a barf bag (with the nicest seat mate ever) - and being met by friends with balloons and an amazing cake (this is pre-9/11 after all) - and the need to throw up with a blazing fever..Fucking awesome..
31 was a repeat of 30 - only it was a cloudy day, business lunch - and then three days in bed with a raging flu..
Can March come soon enough?
AND SO ON...
Since that time I have spent my birthday trapped in hotels in ice storms, lost my luggage for a week when heading out for a week of scuba diving in the middle of no where Caribbean (is it wrong to wish for just your underwear to show up..just that?)...so you get the picture - my birthday has often been eventful, sometimes bad, and sometimes good.
NOW WHAT? A CONFESSION
I am writing this the night before my birthday..this is not the first time I have not been with my dad on my birthday - outside the original one. When I was three - he was traveling on business - trying to support his family of four - going on five. He sent me a long letter telling me about how much he loved me and how much he regretted missing my birthday.. I have that letter. I am feeling fairly certain that I will be able to read it tomorrow..
I just don't know what to expect on February 18, 2013 of myself, others, or if Dad decides its time to check in. I have family and friends that are beyond compare - but in the words of Joan Didion - "It's A Year of Magical Thinking." I have been surprised, disappointed, inspired, and saddened in ways that I have never encountered.
It's another day..another test..a day to remember, a day to forget..a day to move on.
All I can say, is to quote Joan Didion..from "The Year of Magical Thinking"
“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both body and mind."
This is my Year of Magical Thinking...and being - its fucking bizarre and sad and weird and ???
