Today is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 60 years old. Ten years ago I took him to dinner at the restaurant I worked at. He wouldn't tell me how old he was. It wasn't until after he died that I knew for sure he was 50. He wouldn't admit it. So I put that he was 49 in his obituary. We both had the prime rib. I don't really remember what we talked about. The only thing I remember is that his doctor finally found medication that could help him sleep. He said he slept through the night for the first time in 30 years. He was so excited about it. All I can say is that I'm glad the coroner (or whomever) took all his meds because I probably would have taken them, and anything that could put my Dad to sleep would probably kill me. After he died, I would go out on his birthday and drink a Micolob, the beer he drank when we went out, to celebrate and kinda feel like I was spending time with him. I can't do that anymore. I don't know what to do to have that closeness I used to feel. One of the biggest things we had in common was our love of beer. I'll be honest, its almost enough to get me to drink. But I won't. I just know that this day is going to pass and I won't feel like I did anything to honor him or spend time with him. I wonder what I would have done for him? Probably something simple. I was a terrible daughter. I never spent enough time with him and I was the most important thing in the world to him. But I was a kid. My friends came first. I think, given the chance, I would have made that up to him. We buried him 2 days before Father's Day. I was going to take him to Sullivan's for dinner that night. I had Wednesdays off and I knew he went to the VA in Media on Wednesdays. I was going to ask him if he would want to have lunch on Wednesdays. I knew it would mean the world to him and I was looking forward to him getting to know me as a person, not just his little girl. But anyway, I really don't have a point, I just felt like talking about my Dad. Happy Birthday Daddy.
No comments:
Post a Comment