The Way It Was Then - Part #3

 

February 25, 1983

 

Birthdays are for memories

 

He should have been 63 yesterday.

That’s young by any of today’s standards.

But he’s been gone for six years now, a victim of unsuspected heart disease, and each February 24 still belongs to him.

It’s his day, just like it was on February 24, 1973.

My mother had been dead just a year then, and life was pretty gloomy for my stepdad. They had been very close, despite the differences in their personalities, and Dad, more so than Mom, depended on the relationship for his social, emotional and physical survival. Without his Katie, he seemed to be at odds with himself … sort of wandering in and out of places, looking for something or someone.

Fortunately for my daughters, had his his family. His brothers and sister and his beloved grandchildren kept him going and provided the excitement in his life.

When he could shop for some gadget for the littlest one or take her around the block on his bike, or hop in the car with her for a quick trip to the nearest fast food joint for French fries. … he had a purpose and some fun in his life.

Not that Dad ever needed something to do. A carpenter by trade, he was forever fixing something for someone, although nis satisfaction in working around hi own home had gone with Mom.

But the grandchildren and his family kept him feeling useful, needed and loved. And with Dad, that counted for everything.

It didn’t start out to be quite so big, but Dad’s birthday in 1973 ended up being a family get-together with a unique characteristic as large families go … it managed to stay a complete surprise to the guest of honor.

When the cars were all hidden (courtesy of the neighbors on our friendly street) and everyone was truly quiet with expectation, Dad strolled into the house expecting his usual unexciting, unglamorous birthday celebration. Dinner with the family, just the five of us.

Fortunately for us, we’ve captured this moment on film … his utter shock at the loud “Surprise!” that greeted him this time.

The look of amazement on his face as he went around the room, smiling with tears in his eyes at everyone there.

They ranged from infant in port-a-crib to eldest niece and nephew, and the house resounded with laughter and fun for hours.

Evry once in a while, he’d lean across someone’s shoulder just to give them a kiss that said it all.

He was a very happy man that day … surrounded by people who’d been made happy by the countless things he’d done of us over the years.

We never got together again like that for Dad. Oh, there were the usual family gatherings, but always with someone absent or with everyone sort of drifting in and out without purpose.

For Dad, 55 was a biggie.

It gave hm a reward many never get … homage from his clan … from the people who cared enough to come together to honor him and show how much he was loved.

It was a day he remembered often … always with an ear-to-ear smile.

It was a day I remember often … although not always with a smile, because there will be no more like that.

Lucky for those of us who remain, there was a big party that day that left memories galore … memories of the man we called a lot of things … Dad, Uncle Martin, or just plain Marty.

He knew how to have a good time and hot=w to make others relax and enjoy life.

We all miss him still.

For Dad, that February 1973 was a biggie.

It was also only  a little over three years until he left us for good.