Paul's Heart

Another Birthday Without My Father

Almost all that I know in my life, whose parents have passed away, often post “Happy Heavenly Birthday” to their mothers and fathers, remembering a day that still means so much to them. For me, that day is today, my later Father’s birthday. My Dad passed away from complications of lung cancer at the age of 70. Though the paternal side of my family was not known to live into their sixties, ironically one of the final things my Father said was, “I just want to make it to 70.” Which he did, passing away in May later that year.

Our minds are then likely to shift to, “he would be 82 years old today had he lived.” It is almost as if we are trying to keep them alive, more than just spiritually, but actually in the present. And nothing would make me happier than to have my Dad still here, continuing to experience the bonds that we rebuilt from the results of the effects of my parents’ divorce, to becoming a grandfather to my daughters.

My Dad and I got to experience two different perspectives, he in a role of getting to share time, watching my daughters grow, and me, watching my Dad have the joy that I know he wish he could have had with me, were it not for the divorce. I have so many memories of my daughters with their grandfather from the infamous Oreo cookie jar to the huge fish aquarium, to the midnight flashlight raid with the one and only night he got to babysit my daughters overnight.

My daughters were not much older than the photo when he was diagnosed with lung cancer, passing away a year later. It was during that time he only knew that I was at the beginning stages of divorce, and my daughters were going to be a major focus in that divorce. So, not only was I dealing with my Dad having cancer, my divorce, there was also my continued failing health, a trifecta of some of the most stressful things to deal with individually, let alone all at once.

My Dad was aware of the level of conflict with the divorce, and it was during this time, he would finally share some, just some of the details from a time that I was too young to be aware of, but had questions anyway, of why certain decisions were made by him. Eventually, his health would slide where I no longer felt appropriate sharing what was happening with the divorce, the last thing I wanted was him worrying about the issues I was facing in court. He would pass away before all of the chaos of my divorce would come forward, but his memory and spirit left me with a determination of how hard I would fight to keep a relationship with my daughters, something he failed to do with me as a child in his divorce.

So yes, today is his heavenly birthday. And he would be 82 years old today. As I often do, I remember our complicated past with each other, an alienated childhood, a reconnection via tragedy, and a rebuilt and stronger than imagined bond, the rest of his life. But I did something different today. I am a big believer in “positive imaging”, a concept written about by author Norman Vincent Peale in his book “Positive Imaging.” You simply see things in your mind as if they were real. And so, I did just that with my Dad, picturing him here, with me today, visiting his now adult grown granddaughters, witnessing all that they are achieving. He is able to see he had a great life.

Then I thought, I wonder what he would like like twelve years later since he actually passed away. I do not normally like to mess with AI as I equate it with playing with a Ouija board, but after seeing video clips of deceased celebrities and what they would look like today, I decided to give it a go. And that is the photo at the top of the page. In the collage, the top photo was the last photo taken with my father. I asked the AI to age the photo twelve years. I think my Dad looks pretty good at 82 (had he lived that long). Not so sure I aged as gracefully, so I gave it another go with me, using a current photo, and aging that twelve years, which would make me 72 years old at that point.

So maybe I do have my Dad’s genes, as this photo has me aging quite well, my gray confined to my beard and mustache.

My Dad lived to the age of 70, and that is actually quite young by today’s measure. But he made it longer than most in his family, and were it not for his lifetime of smoking, who knows. I am now just ten years younger than when he passed. I have his genes, and though I am not a smoker, I have such a complicated health history from my own cancer and survivorship issues that will have an impact on my own longevity. So, unlike my Dad, I do not have an age goal. I simply take one day at a time, wanting every day I can possibly have, and at the end of that day, it has been a good one.

I still miss my Father so much. I miss the conversations. I miss the excitement my daughters had when we got together. I wish I could thank him for giving me the spirit and the intestinal fortitude to endure my divorce and custody battle. I often found it hard to see the similarities between my parents and I, but today, I can definitely see them.