Tonight we celebrated my dad’s birthday. He turns 53 next week. He wouldn’t be very happy to know that I wrote about him on “the internet.” Let’s not tell him.
My dad. Our relationship is insane. I don’t have the right words to explain it either.
When I was little I adored him. We played baseball in the backyard. The bases were a shoe or a stick. Plastic baseball and bat. We would play for hours.
I loved my dad. My dad worked so hard for us. Went to school and worked all night. I remember waiting up for him to get home, I would hug him and go to bed.
As a teenager I drove him nuts. I was really a chore to handle but he tried. He did his best. He always did.
When I told him I was pregnant I broke his heart, we didn’t talk for months. When my baby was born he was so in love. He’s the best grandpa a kid could ever ask for. He gives them everything he can, anything they want. Anything.
As an adult he has had to bail me out of so many difficult situations. When the kids and I had to move back home with my parents he didn’t think twice. No hesitation. We could come back anytime for any length of time.
I have always tested his patience and his love for me. I have never been easy to love. Not for him and not for anyone. But he does. He has. He will.
Happy birthday dad. Thank you for always being there. Even when it was much easier to throw in the towel. Thank you for always pushing me. For telling me like it is. No matter how ugly. Thank you for being the best Grampy to my kids. Thank you for taking care of us. Happy birthday.