Happy Birthday.

Dear Dad,

Today you would be turning 70.  It would be a big one and it’s on a weekend, so we’d likely be there with you to celebrate. 

You’d wake up grumpy trying to show us that you didn’t think it was a big deal.  We’d go for a picnic or go to the river and I’d catch you smiling even though you were pretending to read the newspaper.   

The kids would be playing, you’d be reading and smiling, and I’d be nearby appreciating it all, smiling on the inside at the rightness of the world.

We’d go to a fancy dinner where you’d find something to complain about at first, but by the end, you would be laughing and telling everyone that you were 70 today. 

Instead, though, I’m far away from you, unable to celebrate with you on your big day.  I hope you are celebrating somehow, somewhere.  Maybe with all the grandparents I’m researching.  Maybe with all the friends and family I’ve lost.

Whatever you are doing, wherever you are, I hope you know that there is no one on Earth or in the heavens missing you more than I do right now.



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