He, my dad, would have been 58 today.
But, I thought, that just might confuse the boys more than anything.
The cake, really, would have been only a sugary symbol of a man's life we celebrate almost daily here in our house when we talk about being brave {"like Papa Brian when he was a firefighter, mom"} or being responsible {like Papa Brian, right, mom?} or being a silly goose {like Papa Brian when he was little, E} or making the fotch {I make Papa Brian's face, don't I mom?!}.
Because really, truly
all it takes is one good look at G's smile
or watching G eat a popsicle when it's 45 degrees outside
or a glance in the mirror at my copper-penny hair
or watching E's absolute determination while playing
to realize my dad's spirit, in this house, at least,
remains alive and well.

{Comments are closed on this post. But, still, thanks for being here.}
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