Yesterday was my dad's birthday.
I have a history of either sending cards waaay too early
or late or sometimes I just save them for the next year
so they have a hope of being somewhat on time.
Sometimes I have to look at the postage stamp
and see how much it cost
to decipher what year I meant to send the card.
I have a card for one of my sisters that is probably a decade old.
I can tell by how cheap the stamp is.
This year I wrote a note in my dad's card that said,
"Finally got one to you on time."
and then I let the card ride around in my car for three days.
Which meant it might get there on time
or I'd have to eat crow for a while.
The card arrived yesterday, right on time!
Wonders never cease.
My dad would have had a great chuckle over
my note had the card arrived late.
In his birthday card I put a photo I'd received of
the gravestone I bought last month
for my brother Rodney's grave.
I've never heard my dad say his name.
Yesterday when I called the first thing my dad said to me was, "That was a very nice idea to put a gravestone on (momentary pause) Rodney's grave."
My dad turned 79 yesterday.
Rodney would've been 49 this year.
Doing the math I realize what a young man
my dad was when Rodney died.
He was the only one in our family
who knew where Rodney was buried
until I asked him 20 years ago.
It's taken 20 years for me to make good on the promise to put a marker on Rodney's grave. I am so glad my parents are still alive to see the promise fulfilled.
My parents go for coffee with a group of cronies twice a week.
Today is one of those days.
I sit here wondering
if my mom slipped the photo in her purse
to show her sister
or if his memory will always be