Today would have been my father's 65th birthday. There are many times during the year that I think of him a lot more than others, and his birthday is one of those times. I miss him a lot sometimes. When Connor was born, and I made phone calls to tell everyone, I felt I left the job unfinished, because I couldn't call him.
My dad was a pretty cool guy. He was born in Mexico, and came to this country after graduating from medical school, in 1965 or so. He and his best friend came to do their residencies, not knowing english, and in winter! He would tell my brother and me stories about how they would sit in the car with socks on their hands because they didn't have mittens. If we went out to a restaurant that wasn't mexican food, he would always order a hamburger because when he first came here, that was one of the few words he knew in english, and by ordering it, he'd know what he was getting.
My dad was a very outgoing and generous man. He was the type of person that would talk to anyone and everyone. I found it quite embarassing growing up! He was always telling people to better themselves, go back to school, learn spanish. He loved his mother country, and never became a US Citizen. He always supported me in whatever I chose to do, and was always there when I needed him.
He adored my two older boys: they were the light of his life, especially after he retired. They loved their 'Bo', and still talk about him a lot. Sometimes I think Calvin is afraid he is going to forget, because he was just 3 when my dad died. Towards the end, things got difficult with my dad, but I have no regrets. Holidays used to be really stressful, and now they aren't. The first year after he was gone I thought the holidays would be really hard, but they weren't. It's days like today, his birthday, or when I take my kids for photos, or my own birthday that are harder.
Anyway, Happy Birthday Dad. I miss you, and wish you could see all three of your grandchildren now, plus Peter's new baby coming in June.