Every year for the last 20+ years I have woken up on this day looking forward to and relying on that phone call from you and Mom with a heartfelt and embarrassing serenade of “Happy Birthday” first thing in the morning. You would both try so hard to be the first call, first birthday wish I received before starting my day. I haven’t heard from Mom yet, I am 3 hours behind her though, but I know that the serenade will be much different. There won’t be that much needed and beloved baritone in the sing along and no extended “Andy-pie” at the end. And it’s like I’m losing you all over again and my heart breaks just a bit more. Today is the first of many firsts without you and I wish…honestly, I just wish you were here.
How can it be that just over two months ago you left me…left us? Frankly, how can it just be a year ago that I had my last Duo call, on my way to climbing Picacho Peak with a piece of birthday cake and candle in my backpack ready for when I reached the top, with the smiling faces of you both singing that song? It still takes my breath away with the whirlwind of how it all played out. I wish I saved every goofy video chat and voicemail in a folder somewhere to revisit, besides in my heart and memory. I miss the sound of your voice and your laugh. Frankly, I just miss you. I could have received those calls forever and it would have never been enough. I look at your picture on the side of the refrigerator every morning and smile right along with you but then it fades just a bit because it all comes back to me. It may not be knocking the wind out of me each time it hits me, but I do lose you all over again, just a little, each day.
I’m so sorry that this happened to you; this horrible and unforgiving disease. I’m sorry that we didn’t get more time, but grateful that you and I spent those last weeks together. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help save you or at least give you the years you deserved. To see how far your kids could go both personally and professionally, to have more anniversaries with Mom, to watch your grandkids grow up, to be the worst loser and really the worst winner at euchre (LOL – you “miming” receiving and then putting on the championship belt smh), to travel to all the places on your bucket list and really to just see what this world will look like after the pandemic dust has settled. I know that I wasn’t swooping in like a caped crusader to save your day by temporarily moving to Michigan to help, but I sure thought I could. Maybe to you, your family all being there for those last 25 days did save you. You were surrounded by the frustrations and love that our family was built on; talks of everything and nothing into the night and reflections of your past and our plans for the future. And I hope that that brought you peace in the end.
But today…my birthday without you Daddy, I will look back fondly and try to stop the tears from falling and try and stop thinking about what is missing…and think about all the birthdays that you were there. Including the early birthday last year, in my new home in Arizona that became the home I always wanted. The last birthday where I got to see the smile you wore like a badge of honor singing to me.
Love you forever,
Andy
Making Yourself a Priority in Your Own Life's Story 