My birthday this year is bittersweet. I’m excited to be turning 30, excited for the start of a new decade of my life and excited because I just plain love birthdays. But it’s a hard day in that it’s the first birthday my dad isn’t here to sing happy birthday to me. When I turned 27, I thought he forgot my birthday. He came home to messages on his answering machine from both of my sisters reminding him to call me so on my 28th and 29th birthdays I got emails from Dad that said the following:
28: (subject line “burpday”)
Happy Birthday . This is to let you know I haven’t forgotten
and to keep my answering machine from overloading with messages from
your siblings to remind me. I will give you a call when I get home
from work around 10 . Love Dad
29: (subject line “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”)
I will give you a call after I get home from work tonight.Have a
Happy Birthday . Love Dad
My dad had a way of calling on people’s birthdays that involved singing loudly before actually saying hello to the birthday person. I would answer my phone and he would belt out the birthday song and follow it with “HEY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. This is Dad.” As though I didn’t know.
While I’m missing my (crazy) father, I’m also thrilled that my mother is here for a week-long visit. We’re partying it up with friends today, I’m entering my 3rd decade on this planet as I hope to go on–with good friends, good food, and a gallon of margaritas.
(cross-posted on Cathartic Ink).