two days ago would have been my dad’s 62nd birthday. He never celebrated his birthday much, he used to say how it was just another day, though he had no objections for someone buying a delicious cake the same day every year.
My family and birthdays are a bit unusual I think. From as young as i can remember I’ve been told ‘happy birthday’ for 3 days. My birthday and then the two following days. I guess it’s now just a bit of a tradition that birthdays last three days now.
Last year I was in bristol when my Dad had his birthday and I forgot to text him or ring him. I missed the first, second and third day. Worst yet I only remembered when I next came down to london a week or two later after a hint from my dad. Even then I said something stupid like ‘oh it was your birthday last week! happy birthday!’ I’ve never been very good at remembering birthdays, If it wasn’t for facebook I’d probably never even say happy birthday to the majority of the people I know.
A birthday is just another day, if it’s an excuse to have a party brilliant but I’ll have a party for waking up in the morning all the same. It’s funny the things you dwell on when you don’t have a chance to make amends. I don’t really regret forgetting his birthday, I regret missing the chance to wish a great and wonderful man a good day and ask about his cake.
I would like to say a proper happy birthday to him.
Happy Birthday Damian.
I’m going to have a slice of cake.
