Happy birthday, Dad. You would have been 75 on Saturday. I know that was an important number to you. A few months after we discovered that you had terminal cancer, you targeted Nov. 2 as a day you’d like to reach and celebrate No. 75.
For a few months, it looked like that was a realistic goal, even though it would have been twice as long as the doctors told you (six months). Unfortunately, the pain was too much and you decided it was time to move on to the next life.
I didn’t understand that at the time. I do now, of course. Life isn’t life if you’re not living it, no matter the age.
In the weeks leading up to your birthday, I thought we might have a big celebration Saturday. As the day approached, it was clear we each honor you in our own way. I decided I’d celebrate by doing several of the things you loved to do …
I woke up much earlier than usual. Instead of the usual 9 a.m. wakeup call on a weekend (you would have been up by 6), I drug myself out of bed at 7:30 and made a big pot of coffee. You loved coffee, to the tune of 20 cups a day, which really isn’t a great idea.
I had three cups. That wasn’t the plan, but as fate would have it, a movie you enjoyed was on: “Karate Kid.” As Matt Dillon said, it’s a classic, and I sipped coffee through it.
I remembered that you liked Mr. Miyagi, quoting him often and calling Dan “Daniel San.” As I watched the movie, it him me that you had a lot in common with Miyagi, in particular the wisdom you both shared.
At around noon, I drove to the gym for a workout. I’d been sidelined for two weeks with another back strain (I know, stop lifting so much weight, “you big dummy”) but felt well enough to spend 45 minutes on the stair climber.
Exercise seemed like a fitting way to honor you because you were in good shape into your 70s, up until the point cancer zapped your energy. I also know how much it meant to you that we worked out together until I got back in shape to the tune of losing 100 pounds several years ago.
After torching 900 calories, I came home and grabbed most of the leftover candy we had from Halloween, roughly enough to kill a horse, and headed for Dan’s place to deliver it to your grandkids and my nieces and nephews.
On the way, I stopped to pick up a red rose, one of your favorite flowers, to place on your headstone.
When I arrived at Dan’s, he and Tricia were busy adding insulation to the attic. I’d hoped to help Dan unload the van from the Hannibal, Missouri, craft show a few weeks ago. That’d already been done, but I made up for it driving to your old shop to unpack the inventory.
I figured restocking the shelves and belt racks would take 45 minutes. It ended up being two hours. That also seems fitting. You always worked twice as hard as most folks. I enjoyed working in the shop, keeping a close connection to your life’s work.
Afterward, I visited you in at the Overbrook cemetery, telling you about the previous few weeks of life: work, the shows, my wife and kids, progress on my book and several other things.
The rose seemed like a perfect touch. It reminded me fo the small rose garden you meticulously nurtured in Melvern. Many times when Shana and I began dating, you told me to grab some roses and take them to her.
“A beautiful rose for a beautiful woman,” you said. You were right, of course.
I stopped back by Dan’s on the way home, spoke to them for a few minutes and asked the kids for their Christmas lists. I had to on your birthday. Man did you love Christmas. And, of course, I had to see your grandkids on your birthday, something you did virtually every day.
From Overbrook, I stopped by the house to see Shana and Molly for a few minutes before making my next stop on the list: the casino, one of your hobbies.
I figured this would be the usual trip for me: 20 minutes and out, $20 lighter. This time, though, I wouldn’t watch you cuss at a machine for an hour afterward.
Somehow, I won this time. At one point, I was up $60 after a series of bonuses on a slot machine. Twenty bucks and 45 minutes later, I figured it was time to get the hell out of Dodge up $40.
As I hit the door, the security guard had a look of, “Didn’t you just get here?”
I nodded and said, “I’m up $40 and getting while the getting’s good.”
I got home at about 9 p.m., just in time to celebrate your birthday with the last thing on the list: a piece of cheesecake, you favorite dessert and what we had on all your birthdays, the only difference being that Shana, Molly and I had non-dairy pumpkin pie cheesecake.
I think I covered many of the things you loved. It ended up being a great day. A hell of a day for a hell of a man. Love and miss you, old man. Happy birthday.
