February
1, 2016
Greetings
from the celebration,
I
know this is short notice, but this is your invitation.
I
remember making a birthday card. Drawing
a picture in it and writing words. I
remember him unfolding it, I know the
look he had, the goofy smile, eyebrows arched, as if Rembrandt had remembered
his birthday.
Many
years of cake and candles and cards and gifts.
Some homemade, some bought with first earned dollars, some given with
great pride, others with too little thought.
The cake was eaten the presents opened, the cards displayed for the
appropriate number of days.
There
were probably a few birthdays I did not remember, a few times I made a frantic
trip into the convenience store and fumbled under the ‘Belated’ section in the
Hallmark display.
But
most years the day was given its due. Decades piled up, the calendar whirled,
and every year we celebrated the life of someone we loved.
There
were, thankfully, a good number of birthdays when his grandchildren stood
proudly in front of him with their own gifts, some clumsily wrapped, cards with
primitive art inspired by candles and cake.
He would smile his signature grin, and arch his eyebrows in awe, and the
connection would be made again. And in
them he could see himself extending into a time when he would no longer be
close enough to touch.
Tomorrow
is my Dad’s 85th birthday. It
has been thirteen years since we have been able to hand him a gift, watch him
unwrap it and see his smile, sing the song, kiss his forehead. But we have such momentum now it’s impossible
to not celebrate his day.
To
paraphrase an old Russian idiom, ‘You live as long as you are celebrated.’ As I wrote these words this morning it dawned
on me how significant that might be.
My
family will always remember my Dad, each of us having catalogued some special
fragment that carries him with us into this new year. Time, the passing of each generation, will
leech a little of those memories, alter a few, fade a few, erase a few. It seems like on his birthday it would be a
good time to refresh them, and I can’t think of a better way than to invite you
to celebrate them with us.
If
you look at the best in each of his children you will see the best of my
Dad. When you see any of us work hard,
make friends, raise our children with dedication, give passionately to those we
care for, laugh louder than is appropriate, there you will sense the echo of
our father.
When
you see us make mistakes, stumble, fail, and get up and start over, you will
know part of his story. When you see us
challenged but never defeated, you will see how he handled his battles. When
you see us apply the gifts we are given, small and large, to make the lives of
people around us richer, you will know more about our Dad.
And
tomorrow, when you see us celebrating his birthday, toasting his memory,
retelling old stories, laughing too loud, you’ll have some idea why.
So
this note will serve as your invitation.
Join us in celebrating a life well lived. Get a piece of paper and draw out your best
artwork, and write the words ‘Happy Birthday Scotty’. Put it where you can see it. I promise it will bring a smile.
Want to make the smiles go further? Take a picture of your card to my Dad and post it on the Monday Moanin' Facebook page (click here)
Hope
this finds you celebrating,
David
Copyright
© 2016 David Smith
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