The call came every February 21st of my adult life. It would go something like this:
Dad (sounding all proud of himself for remembering on his own): Happy Birthday Sara!
Me (laughing): Thanks, but you know what?
Dad (laughing too): I guess I did it again.
Dad: Guess I better call David. I’ll call you in a couple of days.
February 21st is my younger brother’s birthday. Mine is the 23rd. Easy mistake to make, but every single year?
Not that it bothered me. Truth is I looked forward to his call. It made me smile because he wasn’t one to make mistakes in front of his kids, but he laughed with me about his inability to keep things straight. AND I got to talk to him twice in one week. That is a lot considering Dad was a quiet guy. Not shy but unless he had something important to say, he let my Mom do most of the talking (which she is very good at – right, Mom?).
Well, for the sixth year in a row, I know that I will not hear from Dad today. Not possible. He died in June, 2006. Still, today, every time the phone rings, I will get my hopes up momentarily. Which makes this a tough day for me. Because I want to talk to him. I want to hear his laugh. Desperately.
The above photo is of Dad and my oldest child, just days after her birth. He wore the title “Poppy” proudly, as you can probably tell from the photo.
The following song was (maybe still is) one of my sister’s favorites once upon a time. I’m sharing it today for my Dad. But before I do, I want to say something to my brother: Happy Birthday David!
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