I don't remember the date my dad died (I always think of it as Memorial Day because he died on Memorial Day and Memorial Day falls on a different date each year), but I can certainly remember his birthday because it was St. Patrick's Day.
You may be shocked to know that I write most of my posts well in advance of the time they're published, so here I sit and tomorrow is my dad's birthday and I have a happy memory to write about.
Because my dad was in the military, he wore a uniform to work every day -- until he retired. Then my mom picked out his clothes for his new job with the state, and oh my goodness she made some awful choices. One was a green leisure suit. He was very tall and thin (Favorite Young Man's predecessor) and looked like a giant stalk of celery in that awful leisure suit. It was the '70s and my mom was pissed because he wouldn't wear a necklace with it -- a gold chain around his neck. He wore the clothes she chose but he drew the line at the necklace.
Anyhoo, back when he still wore unies to work each day, sometimes he would have to dress appropriately because we were going someplace. He always said he wasn't color blind, just color ignorant. I guess that meant he couldn't match colors appropriately because my mom was always yelling at him about his clothing choices because they didn't match.
One time he and I were at home alone, I must have been about 10, and my mom, I think she was getting her hair done before whatever weird outing we were about to go on and my dad asked me what he should wear. I picked out navy blue pants and a yellow shirt. Easy, right?
My mom got home and said, Good God, you're dressed decently for a change. What in the hell happened?
As soon as she turned away, he gave me the biggest smile.
I still feel that smile, Daddy.
Infinities of love,