Today December 2 is my father’s 70th birthday, a day he didn’t make it to. He always thought he would live till past 90 and I believe he would hadn’t he been a victim of circumstance.
I don’t know if I told anyone this but on his last birthday alive I had this dread all through my body that I wouldn’t get to wish him again so I wished him – twice over the phone.
He was such a mixed bag of anxiety, dadaness, jokes, spontaneous dances and songs, mooning and cursing. Always there to help those less fortunate because “you’re not going to take it all to the grave”. He did this at the expense of his own well-being, never expecting anything in return, which sucks but what a way to live so selflessly.
I believe and know now that these values don’t just come from thin air. They are taught to children. Just as you can teach a child to love, you can teach them to hate. My father had great teachers in my grandparents. I didn’t get to spend too much time with them but I saw how they influenced my father who in turn influenced us.
My father was an idealist, a dreamer, a doer and unconditional in his love. I wanted the world to know he is really missed. This day might have meant little to him but it means the world to me. Especially that he’s not here.