It’s interesting to me that the beginning of life and the end of it have so many similarities. Beyond the obvious, that at both ends of the timeline you need the care of someone who loves you to help you make the transition, there is also the curious fact that references to time are usually about days, weeks or months.
And then, eventually, you start referring to years: It’s been six weeks… It’s been 7 months… It’s been a year…
My father’s birthday is today. Or rather was. He’d have been 78 today. After today, I suppose I will stop writing about his birthdays. I dunno. But this is the first birthday he hasn’t had since he was born in 1928.
April 12th has always been a part of my life as a special day—a day starting out with music, leading into a festive breakfast that my mom cooked, followed by a new tie, new socks, or a wooden something for Dad.
A year ago today was my father’s last birthday. It started out just like every birthday of his that I have been there to witness, and as every birthday ever started in our home. Dad got roused out of bed to the sound of the loud, joyful melody of the famous Happy Birthday song everyone in this country is familiar with. My mom, nearing 77 at the time, still plays piano with great flare and enthusiasm, and, as she always did for birthdays, got up early to wake the birthday boy with the only loud piano music you’d ever want to hear that early in the morning. She traditionally played the piano with great gusto, repeating it over and over until everyone was up and in the room, rubbing their eyes and singing loudly to the honoree.
This time, I was there to video tape it. I had reason to believe, despite hope, that this was my father’s last birthday (that can be a real party killer if you think about it too much).
I’m pretty sure he knew it too.
He did pass away 2.5 months later.
Now, I don’t know how long the Welcome Banquet for New Arrivals lasts in Heaven… I suspect it’s a long time, given that time and space are so different there… So all I can do is hope that if it’s still going on, Someone remembers to get a really goofy party hat for Robert Darrow, whose earthly birthday was April 12th.
He’d wear it, too!
And if I could put in a request to the Host, it would be that he could be excused from the table for a few moments, and run outside and do a Phoon in front of the Pearly Gates.
He’d do it, too! [Link]
I’ll be checking my e-mail for the digital photo from Heaven, all day.
I’ll always love you Dad. You were a great man!