This is a photo of my father on what looks to be (based on candle count) his 10th birthday…
He only lived to see 27 more.
He was only five years older than I am at this minute – when he passed away.
I forget, all the time, how young he was when he died. I forget, almost every day, how young my mother was when she lost him.
I just thought about the fact that I wake up every morning believing I still have plenty of time to live my life – then I wondered how he felt when he realized his was going to be cut so short. I felt like a spoiled little bitch for wasting any moment he (and my mother) had given me. I have wasted too many. I bet he would not have wasted any.
So…Happy Birthday (in 11 minutes) and Goodnight Dad(dy). This Rolling Stones jam is for you.
I don’t smoke weed (I really don’t). But I’m pretty sure you did. If you were here, I’d make an exception. We could watch The Big Chill and dance in the kitchen together (I know Dee would love that).
P.S. I’ll be sure to sneak a beer or two in for you tomorrow. I mean, that’s what any respectable Daddy’s Girl would do (no offense mom, everyone knows I’m sort of a Mommy’s Girl too).