Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 63.
If he were still here, he would have accompanied my family and me this past weekend to one of his favorite Italian restaurants for dinner.
He would have loved the jazz show we attended Saturday night.
He would have played with his niece and nephew at breakfast on Saturday morning.
If my father were still here, he would be eating pizza tonight, like I plan to do.
He would tell me that his birthday is the best day of the year. I would argue, ‘no, mine is!’
He would be excited for the warm, spring weather ahead and cursing the harsh, New York cold.
He would be mapping out his summer vacation already.
If my father were here, he would be looking forward to a birthday dinner with my mother at Peter Lugar this weekend.
He would relish the whole day, the same way he taught my brothers and me to do, because, really, there is no better day than your birthday. That’s what he taught me anyway.
If my father were here today, he would be happy to just be. Because, above all else, he loved life, my mom, my brothers and me, and pizza. Can’t forget about the pizza! It was his favorite food group. Yes, it’s a food group. If he were here, he would agree with that.
I miss him more than words can say.
In loving memory of my father
March 5, 1950 to October 28, 2011