This is sooo deeply painful I don’t know if I’ll survive the day.
No parties. No lunches. No gathering. No excitement.
Just floods of tears because I miss my Dad.
So…here’s what I imagine Dad would say on this, my 45th birthday:
Me: *pretending to be stern* Father…
Dad: *delighted* Babygirl!
Me: I’m going to be 45 tomorrow
Dad: What? No! You’re only 30…30 something right?
(We have this very same convo about my supposed age every year)
Dad: What are you planning to do on your big day?
Me: Mourn you, really
Dad: Well. That’s stupid.
Dad: Listen, Chook – life is too short. You need to do something you love. Do you still like donuts?
Me: Of course I do.
Dad: I suspect your Mom does, too. She’s my fat, beautiful little dumpling chuckles and lowers his voice don’t tell Mom I said that. She’ll tear me to pieces.
Me: I won’t. Promise.
Dad: Take yourself out for a box of donuts tomorrow. I don’t like the thought of you burying your head in the sand and pretending tomorrow is not your birthday, you’re better than that.
Me: Am I though?
Dad: You, my girl…are pretty amazing. I’ve seen you go through some really, really hard things and here you are. Remember that time you almost went into a coma?
Dad: But you fought it. You kept going. My little champion.
Me: That’s not the same, though is it?
Dad: Well yeah, ok. Remember that day in Gove when you competed in EVERY sports event for your School carnival?
Me: smiling at the memory I remember
Dad: I was so bloody proud of you. You tried everything. You did it then and you can do it again now
Me: Try sports?
Dad: laughing no, you TWIT. Try new things. Try to get your license for God’s sakes. You’re getting on a bit, darl. You need to be driving.
Me: I’m ok on the bus, Dad.
Dad: You need to experience the joy in going somewhere in your own car. Get LOST on purpose and use a road map to find your way home again! It’s so fun!
Me: We don’t use roadmaps any more, Dad
Dad: Pity. *starts whistling “always look on the bright side of life”
Me: *groan* Dad! Focus!
Dad: Chook, tomorrow’s going to be tough, but so are you! You’ve faced tougher things before
Me: Err what? NOTHING is as bad as losing you. Nothing.
Dad: Babygirl, you need to face painful things in order to grow. That’s probably in the Bible. Or maybe I heard Doug at the bar say it? Have you ever met Doug, he’s so n-
Dad: Hello! I’m Dad. Yep. laughs and laughs
Me: Lord help me
Dad: He’s probably the best person to go to tomorrow, Chook
Dad: No, you pillock! The Lord.
Me: The Lord? You’ve never even read the Bible, Dad.
Dad: I know bits. Anyway. The important thing is…get your pain and heartache from here points to chest to here wiggles his lips with his finger and pulls a daggy face to here: makes gestures of words moving out of his mouth and away into the space around him do you…do you get what I’m trying to say to you?
Me: sigh I do. You always tell me that.
Dad: Things could be worse.
Me: puts on a voice Worse?!? How could they get any worse?
Both of us: Jehovah! Jehovah!
Dad: I fart in your general direction!
Me: Your father was a hampster and your mother smelt of elderberries!
We both laugh. We love Monty Python
Dad: TRY to have a good day tomorrow, Chook. No point being a miserable cow.
Me: Dad!!! Omg.
Dad: laughing well am I right? Or am I right?
Me: You’re right.
Dad: Chin up, Chook. Have a good day tomorrow babygirl.
Me: lying I will, thank you Dad.
Dad: That’s my girl.
Me: Be a good boy, ok? I love you Dad.
Dad: voice fading as the conversation does Nah…that’s boring. Love you to the moon and back. Give that man of yours a hug from me. Bye!!!
I love you, Daddy Daniels. With all my heart.
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