Happy Birthday

February 3rd. Usually a happy day for me. After all, it's the day both my father and grandfather were born. Birthdays are always happy occassions. Especially in our family. We like celebrations.

I keep thinking about the February 3rd that would have been if my dad were here. I would have gotten up and given him a big birthday hug. Tonight he would have gotten his birthday presents, I probably would have bought him a shot glass for his collection and then something else, something cool.

We would have had steak for dinner, since it was his favourite. Birthdays around here follow the same pattern. Daddy got steak and all the fixings and a cherry chip cake. Mom gets KFC and Devil's food cake. I get pizza and white cake.

I would have baked his birthday cake like I had every year since I was old enough. Always the same cake. Cherry chip with vanilla icing and cherry pie filling in the middle and some sort of decoration on the top. Last year it was a football themed cake, complete with these disgusting sugar footballs.

I don't know what theme I would have gone with this year. I do know that tomorrow he'd go party with his friends. Or that they would have invaded our house like they had a lot of weekends, especially right after his birthday.

This is superbowl weekend too, so that would have guarenteed visiters on Sunday since Superbowl means party. It would have been a fun day, a fun weekend.

Instead, I'm filled with deep sadness, natuarally. I just miss him so much. He should be here today of all days. We shouldn't be doing this without him.

I keep thinking about last year at this time. We had celebrated his birthday on the Sunday, the first, because he wanted to do the Superbowl thing. We had cake and dinner and junk food and we watched the big game together. He was cheering for Carolina, I was cheerign for New England, so I gave him a hard time when New England won.

Then, on his actual birthday, I got up and took him for lunch before I went to work. We went to Swiss Chalet. Then, he took me to work. I got to go home early and we spent the evening together before my mother came home.

It was a nice day. Birthdays around here always were. So many memories of birthdays past. My life really was filled with joy and laughter and good memories. The problem is, that sometimes the sweet memories sting more than the bitter.

It's hard not to hurt when I think of what today might have been. It's even harder not to fall apart. I miss him so much. If only he were here....

Happy birthday, Daddy, whereever you are.