Today is my birthday. I have never made much of my birthday, even when I was a kid. My birthday comes sandwiched between two of the biggest holidays in the world, and I figured, well, people are exhausted from all the holiday-ing, so I’ll just shut up and pretend it’s not my birthday.
On my 50th birthday, my parents came to visit my wife and me in our little town in Turkey. They crossed two continents and an ocean in order to do it. I realized later that not only was it their son’s 50th birthday, it was the 50th anniversary of them becoming parents. I was so busy ignoring my birthday I didn’t even realize what was going on.
This year my dad passed away. Sunday, 16 June. Father’s Day. I haven’t been able to cry for him, although I do in my dreams, literally. I talked to a psychologist shortly after my dad passed away, and she said I needed to stop to breathe and acknowledge that I had passed a pretty monumental milestone in anyone’s life.
Today is my birthday, and I have never made much of it, but I will today, because what is a birthday besides the celebration of one’s existence on this earth, and I am here. My dad may not be, but I am, and so today, 55 years into my life, I will finally acknowledge that yes, in fact, it is my birthday.