He would have turned 74
On his last birthday last year we gave him gifts and cake and songs ...
He was almost totally out of it with all the morphine in his system. But he had flashes of clarity and he looked somewhat confused. After we all gave him gifts he said: " What is this?! Oh my! I have never had so many gifts in my life!"
And it was true!
Useless gifts . Useless things. Useless stuff he would never use. Never live long enough to use.
And I tried to enjoy the moment. My father's last birthday. But ... his eyes were sad and puzzled. Although there were moments there were you could see a smile forming... there was a deep sadness carved in his gaze.
And all I could think of was that this was his last ever birthday. All I could think of was the one year later were I would be spending his birthday alone, staring at his grave.
I lost that moment.
Like so many moments I've lost because I am always too busy thinking of when this moment will end. When this moment will be forever gone and I will be forever left with its memory.
No more. I say.
No more lost moments.
I order myself to feel and live the moment this moment. Here now. Because we will all stare at a grave one day. And we will all have our grave stared at.
Fuck all the plans for the fucking future.
All my plans went straight to Hell anyway.
So fuck the future.
And my vision was wrong.
Today, I am going to my father's grave for the first time since the funeral.
I really don't know how I feel about it.
I haven't even seen the stone ...
His name on it ...
Yes, I will be spending my father's birthday looking at his grave ...
But I will not be alone ...