An Open Letter to My Dad on His 72nd Birthday
Kouk—
I have to admit that the math is hard now and I had to Google how old you would be this year, but I’m not beating myself up about it because that probably would have happened whether you were still alive or gone. Randomly this morning I was thinking about what we would be doing if you were still here to celebrate. I was thinking about how Raz and his family have taught me about so much good food and wondering if we’d make you something or take you out to somewhere to try something new. You were a person of habit and I am a pusher, so I’d probably allow for both things: something you want and something I want for you. I imagined watching you examine a more adventurous piece of sushi. I imagined the babies watching me watch you and them watching you, too. I imagined you making silly grossed out faces at them and them giggling and giggling and giggling.
And then I got sad so I stopped imagining anything.
It’s all of our birthdays this week. Raz keeps trying to roll his eyes and say that I don’t get to claim both the 14th and the 17th. He wants me to call them my BIRTHEDdays since I performed the action of giving birth on those days and the babies get to have the term “birthday,” but if I have my grammar hat on, I think it would be the other way around? The point is, it doesn’t matter what we call it. I’m in your club now. I am a Taurus with all my favorite people because I did the work to bring these humans into the world and now we all have an entire week of celebrating generations of what we’ve created. That is pretty slick.
After I wrote to you last year, Raz surprised me with a deposit on the new Bronco for my other birthday—the one where mom birthed me and you napped through part of it. In a very big sense, I believe you were on his shoulder and in his ear for that. “The safer one,” you whispered while he assaulted my REM cycle with blue light while researching them. “Let her pick the color, but you do all the rest.” I wish you’d known each other better. You might gang up on me, which would be irritating, but I’d much prefer that to not having you. That’s not what is, however, and I’m trying to do my best with what is.
ODP is even more brilliant and handsome than he was last year. He’s learning so much so fast that he often teaches me new things, so I’ve taught him that every time he learns something new he gets a wrinkle in his brain. When I ask him how many wrinkles he thinks he has, he tells me he has twenty. Every time. His school told us he’s a math whiz, but I’m not so sure ;)
B has gotten even spicier. She has an increased vocabulary to support her antics now, which is very cute and pretty helpful, actually. She’s a two sport athlete, spending her Tuesday mornings at the gym and her evening swimming. She’s much more athletic than I ever was. You’d like that.
I spent a lot of last year getting clear on my business and figuring out how to both think differently about money and attract the right kinds of clients to me. It was hard work, and I’m proud I never gave up. I could have, but instead I dug my heels in, and I have been celebrating some really wonderful new clients lately. It feels fantastic to be of service in a way I always knew that I could be, and to be writing more. I’ve realized I need to invest back into my professional growth more than I was before and also bring play into the work I’m doing. I think my work this year has been more fun than it’s ever been—thanks for guiding me through that, and for giving me specific signs along the way so I felt supported in it. I plan to do a better job of asking in ways that you can answer.
Mom has been around a lot more this past year, which is great. Sure, the pandemic held her down, but I also think she was ready to sit pretty a little better, so the timing worked out. I love the relationship she has with the babies and how she and I can teach them about you.
There was a lot of other stuff that was hard to wade through in my head that I wished I could call you about—social justice movements, Trumpies, masks, vaccines, rules. I’m at the point where I can’t confidently say I know what you would believe, what you would say, and what kinds of debates we’d have. That bugs me.
But no matter what’s going on, I know that if I ask you to show up, you will. I know that if I see three eagles flying together, that’s us. I know that if I see one swoop down close to me, that’s you. And I know that your arm is slung over my shoulder everywhere I go. Sometimes, I just wish I could feel it. You know?
I love you,
Bud
