Dad's birthday was/is (?) the day before mine. Something that I both loved and hated growing up. Things were often tangled for me because of it. The feelings about it all continued into adulthood, making the days leading up to my birthday hard (especially for those around me). This year was the second one without him, it turns out that my pre-birthday angst doesn't require his physical presence.
Those who know me best are used to it. At least this year I saw it coming, headed most of it off at the pass by saying "Yes!" and "No." as needed and wanted, and in the end it was much shorter and less of everything than usual.
And yesterday began beautifully...
Sunrise. For all kinds of reasons, the family celebration will be on Sunday, so at sunrise I headed to the ferry.
Stepping onto the boat, stopping to snap this photo of the city, a ferry worker shouted at me to not stop there, to move to the other side. I wanted to shout back at her, "Why are you yelling at me?! It's 7:30 in the morning and it's my birthday!" I just apologized and moved on. She was just doing her job.
The day was spent stitching and talking with my friend in her sweet little house again,
Beside the bluebird figurine and watching the sparrows, chickadees and crows outside,
In a red velvet chair.
Returning home last night there were surprises waiting in the mailbox. Nancy kindly and thoughtfully sent a book who's title has often called to me, and now I'll finally be able to read. The rope is from my brother. Take note of the two ends, they were done by Dad.
A kind of knotting-weaving that secures the ends from fraying, and can create a strong loop. I didn't know about this until my brother mentioned it in a conversation after Dad died. I was fascinated, by the skill and the way it wove into Dad's story... How in In the early years of Mom and Dad's marriage, with a new baby (me) and struggling to make ends meet... Dad would go down to the docks on the weekends to fish, and offer his knot making skills to other fishermen. I can imagine him sitting there with his line in the river, while turning ropes into new tools and a few dollars.
So things shifted this year. Some anger and sadness set-aside, a few holes filled in with a little more forgiveness, understanding and story.
I'm so glad to have this, to be able to hold it and think of Dad making useful and beautiful things with his hands.