Apparently my silver linings playbook was misplaced. The weight of the monster migraine shadowing me all day assisted in this temporary loss.
Plans for celebrating an unfinished life were left in the blueprint stages, as the day wasn’t fully cooperating with me. The morning and early afternoon had plans of their own, plans that involved multiple trips to the store because birthday cake ingredients were missing in the middle of sifting flour, plans of having lunch at one of his favorite restaurants were cancelled on account of life’s time table being different from my own, plans for telling stories over lunch ended up being one-sided conversations at the cemetery with cold steak sandwiches and a conga line of ants that wouldn’t leave me alone, plans for a great day of memories and storytelling ended up with migraines, mucus, coughing, and very little peace.
A heavy heart is a tough thing to shake off when you miss your dad on his birthday. He would have been 68.
Thinking the easiest of things would fall into place was my mistake this morning. Dad’s birthdays are always tough when he’s not around because you realized all the good things he’s missed, like my daughter’s sense of humor, her enjoyment of baking, the way she laughs when she’s being chased in a game of hide-and-seek, how she she loves the Pacific Ocean, or sleeping in every morning. Or my son … how he’s grown up so much since he last played soccer or put-put golf with him, how he really enjoys the Foosball table he gave him, how tight his hugs are or how big his smile can be when he sees you, and how creatively adventurous he can be with Legos and daydreams. And it makes me even sadder when I know what he’s going to keep missing, what I’m going to keep missing. My friend.
Today was a reminder that if things can go wrong they usually do and then it happened …
The new neighbor that had moved into the complex next door a couple of months ago was having problems with his Honda. Now I don’t really talk to this neighbor, just see him walking his dogs in the morning, so when I saw him pushing his car and trying to jump start it, I thought … man my dad would totally help this dude out, and so I asked.
Do you need a jump? Is it your battery?
Um … yeah … but—
Oh I got cables and this whole battery thing the car.
He seemed surprised that someone carrying buttermilk and Crisco would have such a thing, and know the difference between the red cable and the black one. I set up the system told him to turn his car and bam … no AAA service needed.
He smiled and thanked me for saving his day.
And that small act of kindness changed the rest of the afternoon and evening. Because I had searched for the cables and battery charging station I found something I thought my mother had “donated”. I had forgotten I had rescued it during the Christmas purging season, but there it was hanging out in the back of my dad’s ginormous Toyota Tacoma truck, hiding in the safety of the SnugTop.
It reminded me of my Trapper Keeper, the one I had in the seventh grade. It was 3D light painting of waterfalls among a Hawaiian-type landscape. The kind of thing that people hang up in their offices, but my Dad never got a chance to hang it up in his, although as I remember it he wanted to hang it up in my old room, sort of set up a relax-Zen-type zone. I don’t know why he would buy such random things, but it made an impression on him, something about that piece said something, so now that something is staying with me.
TrapperKeeper
I rediscovered its existence and was happy that I had one more piece of my dad with me, something I could hold onto today.
And then in the evening I got a text message from my sister. We talked about missing him today, and I had explained what a rough day today had been and then she sent me a couple of pictures that just made my day.
This was funny, considering my Dad wasn’t too enthusiastic with the campaign that the “Powers That Be” required, but as always he was a good sport.
Keep on cluckin’ …
It was like he was listening all along.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
.
The Wish Factor 
You summoned Dad for your good deed with the neighbor . . it was like he tapped you on the shoulder and was like “We’re helping this fellow, right?”.
I always get emotional when you write about him, it’s impossible NOT to get emotional reading this. It’s so beautiful and honest. Peace and love to you Cali.
Thanks so much for your thoughts and good vibes. Certain days are always tough, his birthday being in the top three. And I was so tripping out about the the waterfalls 3D painting. It tripped me out. He was a total random acts of kindness kind of guy and I knew my Dad would have been like I’m totally gonna try to help this dude, so I did and then things sort turned around from there. So glad you enjoyed the story and that it hit you in the heart, because that’s all that I was feeling all day … heart. Thanks for the peace and love buddy. Hope you’re good.
That was your dad’s little nudge to find it! Hey the tomato plant that I found in my garbage disposal after my dad’s funeral now has an Irish sibling; a shamrock! It is hard, but I think they are around in their own way.
Sometimes I find that to be true … being around in their own way. The shamrock totally blew my mind! A definite sign for sure. Hope it keeps growing and giving you more signs. Thanks for stopping by and reading.
Of course Guatwoman!