Ever since June 9th, everything seems to be a "first" as my Dad isn't around to share it with us. Today is my first birthday without my Dad. No phone call. No Happy Birthday sung off key into my phone. Not from my Dad. I do have a message of him singing to me saved on my phone. If I can bring myself to listen to it, I will. It's a sad day but my family and friends are trying to make it a happy one for me and I love them all the more for it.
One of the stories that my Dad used to love to tell is about the morning I was born. I was born nice and early at 12:45 a.m. on the morning of October 24, 1974. The doctor even thanked my Mom for having me at a decent time so that he could go home and get a good night's sleep.
After I was born, my Dad decided to go out and celebrate in his own way. He had a few beers and popped in at my Aunt Dianne and Uncle John's house. It was the middle of the night. Instead of telling them that I had been born, in his own smart ass way, he told them that he had a big fight with my Mom. This went on for a little while and knowing him, he enjoyed getting my Aunt (especially) and Uncle worked up. Then he finally told them that I had been born. They were happy but annoyed that he had spun such a yarn! No one could tell this story quite like my Dad and it always cracked him up to tell it.
So, if I'm a little sad and off today, you know why. I'm trying to take things moment by moment (instead of day by day.) I'll take the happiness along with the sadness and I'll try to make the best out of both. I'm not writing this for sympathy or birthday wishes. It's a post for me. It's for my Mom (who asked why I hadn't posted about my Dad in awhile.) It's for my son. It's for my Dad. It's just something that I had to write today. Thanks for listening.