Happy Birthday

Today would have been my dad's 68th birthday. Personally, I'm not having too hard of a time with this day. I know the anniversary of his death will be much harder. Birthdays were always a celebration with him and always should be. 

On his birthday last year I called to wish him a HBD, play a crazy birthday song from YouTube over the phone (as I always do), and to discuss his present. We had all decided to splurge and get him an iPod. Typically we get him his favorite snacks, a book, clothes, whatever smaller presents we can think of. For some reason, now we know why, we wanted to go big. But we didn't know if he would want it or not. So I said, "we want to get you an iPod, but want to make sure that's something you would want." He asked to think about it for a bit. I expected him to be overly rational and thank me for the nice thought, but turn it down so we wouldn't have to spend the money. Quite contrarily he called back an hour later and said, "An iPod sounds fun". Just like that. Brief. No over-explanation. Very a-typical of him. Just, "An iPod sounds fun".

Plans begun for this iPod (he did nothing without planning), from the color to the size to what music he wanted on it. The plan was to give it to him while he visited with us in Cleveland over Labor Day Weekend. We would buy it in advance, my husband would register it and get it set it up, and then we would all sit on the back porch drinking beer and discussing what music he needs. I'm sure listening to the beginning of everything so he could revel in spending time with us.

I will always look at the iPod as the last present I never got to get my dad. Didn't even get to buy it. They make me sad now. Especially the green ones. My father in-law's birthday was right after my dad's and we got him a Kindle. I hated that Kindle. I hated that he got his present and my dad never got his. Even now, when he asks my husband questions on how to use it I want to break it. Rational, I know. 

I thought, what if we had just surprised him with an iPod on his birthday at his doorstep. What if he'd already had it and took it running with him that day in August. What if he hadn't heard the other runner say, "How are you doing?" Then he wouldn't have responded with, "It's all downhill from here." Maybe that was the statement that overexerted him just enough to cause his heart attack. What if what if what if. But also, what if he hadn't made that connection with the other runner and that runner didn't check on him when he heard him fall. Then there would be so many more what ifs. 

So although iPods and music in general make me sad now, I know that he's up there rocking out to the Rolling Stones on repeat and I can't help but smile and be happy.

Me, miss queen of the professional-looking b-day cakes, kept to what he would like. German Chocolate Cake, from a box, with a messily iced frosting, from a can.. This is purposefully not my best work, so don't judge.  He cared about taste, not appearance.