Tomorrow marks my Dad’s birthday, but since this site remains silent on 9/11 we are giving him a proper post a little bit early. He’s getting up there in age, and like many of us he’s starting to show it, but whenever I’m with him I can always find some bit of spark or a sly smile that reminds me of some laugh from 30 years ago, and I’m reassured that he’ll always be my Dad.
I am now one year shy of the age my father was when he had me, and thinking of that gives a whole new perspective to my childhood. Imagining having a baby at this point in my life sends shivers down my spine, and though my father was older than most people when he had his first son, when you’re a kid you don’t always notice such things. I certainly didn’t – my Dad was all-powerful and unstoppable. He got up and went to work early each day, he would get emergency calls in the middle of the night and bolt out of bed to the hospital, he could mow the lawn and plant a vegetable garden in a single morning, and somehow have the frame of mind and delicacy to peel me grapes after dinner. But by your mid-forties, you pretty much are who you are, and adding a child to the mix is bound to disrupt even the most accommodating of people. My brother and I no doubt pushed against the orderly life of a Virgo, but we all managed to make it through, and are in many ways richer and better for it
Through hard work, stubbornness, loyalty and love, he’s been the patriarch of our family – someone who came all the way from the Philippines to make a better life for himself and his family, while never forgetting where he came from or the people he had to leave behind. He deserves more than one day to celebrate all that he’s accomplished, and all that he’s been to us over the years, and as he gets older I’ve been trying to make sure I’m present whenever we’re together, so that I can remember. Tomorrow we will have him over for a Filipino dinner and celebrate his special day.
Happy birthday Dad – I love you.
