a birthday.

My dad would've been 72 today. My family wasn't big on birthdays, but we had our rituals. The other two of us would try to find a present, usually some clothes for my dad. We'd have lunch at Jack's (always Jack's, always 3 steaks) usually the weekend before. On the day itself things mostly happened in the evening; we'd have some special dinner, and cake, invariably from savoury fare. We'd sing happy birthday and blow out the candles. Kinda nostalgic thinking about it.

Birthdays don't happen like that any more. In my family of (now) two there's the weight of eighteen years of memories of times when we were three. I wish my mom didn't remind me (although I did remember) about today. But I guess it's difficult to say, between her clinging on to every memory, and my slow spreading numbness, which is a more valid way of getting on with life. Now that it's come painfully to the fore though, I miss my dad being around.