I’ll admit, I was this (read: very) close to ending the 2nd of December completely forgetting that it’s my father’s birthday.
Without fail, I had diligently remembered this occasion for every of the previous years. In fact, I did remember this one a couple of weeks before the actual date, but having to balance a pretty full plate at that time made me forget until two hours before the actual day came to an end.
It is always a mixture of feelings for me on this special day, because as much as I am reminded of all the beautiful memories I had of him while he was present, it also allows the sadness of losing him that many birthdays ago to resurface.
Particularly, the sadness of knowing that this is how it is going to be like for all his birthdays in the future.
I can tell you though, you’d be surprised with what time is capable of doing for us all.
With time, it is not that you deliberately forget certain memories or that the significance of someone has lessened, it is more of the process of accepting that what is gone, is gone. We cannot make new memories with the people who have left us, but we can with those who are still present in our lives. There are people in the present who are equally as significant, and new people to potentially make new memories with.
It has been seven birthdays since, and I still remind myself every now and then to live in the present moment.
As I wrote this, I thought of the years I had without him; the family highlights and the odd milestones I wanted to share, the boy drama(s) and all the falls and grazes that I longed for him to pick me up from, the travel adventures I took, and all that madness of Najib, Trump and Brexit.
Sigh, it really would have made great conversation.
Happy birthday, daddy.
Forever and always.