Bittersweet Day

Today, May 20th was my 38th birthday. Not a huge milestone as far as the years go so I wasn’t expecting much. Add in to that that my husband is out of town for work and I knew it would just be me and the kids. I also knew I was going to miss my Dad. First birthday without him and his death is still so fresh.


My husband said my dad was the one that ruined my birthday for everyone else. And not because he never did anything. Oh, quite the opposite. It was always a big celebration. My Dad understood that our birthdays were the day we came into his life and for that reason he felt they should be celebrated. And celebrated big.

Now that isn’t to say that we had crazy, over the top parties. We didn’t get extravagant gifts. But we had one day where we knew we were being celebrated. I was born at 2:10 in the morning. Every year on my birthday my dad used to come into my room, wake me up and tell me about it was that time x number of years ago that I came into his life.

Much to the appreciation of my husband this practice stopped when I got married and moved out. But he still called every year, just at a more reasonable hour. He would sing to me. Loudly and out of key. And he would tell me he loved me and he would always say a little prayer over me.

When I was younger he and my mom would take us out of school on our birthday. We would get to pick anywhere we wanted to go for lunch and then they would take us shopping. With a family of 6 kids it was the one time a year you knew you were going to get the one on one time with just my parents.

Then we would go home, have dinner and cake with my siblings and just spend time together. Like I said, nothing fancy, nothing extravagant. But it was enough that let me know just how important I was to him.

And while 38 years, 2 kids and 300 miles later I knew he wouldn’t be showing up for a half day and taking me out wherever I wanted to go. I would have given anything to be able to talk to him today.

I keep hearing that this gets easier. I am still waiting for that to happen. I am 38 years old. Crying my eyes out and just missing my Daddy.

About Rachel

Rachel Akers writes about crafts, recipes, and features the adventures of a family of 4. It is always crazy but I wouldn't change it for the world! Comments or questions? Talk to me on Facebook or Twitter or sign up for our RSS feed to have future articles delivered to your feed reader.