Happy Birthday, Goat Dad.
You would’ve turned 69 today.
You would’ve ‘slept in’ and joked about how it’s still special on your birthday even though you can do it every day when you’re retired, relishing in the post-work life you were building. You would’ve played disc golf, listened to music, watched a movie and/or a soccer game, and you would’ve talked to Zac and I on the phone. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it because it’s your birthday, you would’ve just enjoyed hearing our voices. And you probably would’ve walked to Zaps down the road and celebrated with a couple of friends and a margarita.
We would’ve talked about my dissertation proposal. It’s in a week and a half, dad. You would love hearing about my studies, appreciating the social constructs I’m targeting, and we would’ve argued if I’m really getting at them with quantitative data because you would make a case it has to be qualitative. Dad, I’m proposing a multilevel mediation for one of my papers. You would’ve sat back with such pride. You would’ve argued with me, I would’ve gotten frustrated, and after we got off the phone, I would’ve known you argued because you cared and you were invested. You would’ve driven to watch my proposal in person if I had said yes, and at a minimum, you would’ve been watching over zoom. You would’ve been taking notes, writing your questions to ask me later. You would’ve been there, you would’ve been present.
God, I miss you. So much. Every day.
It still hurts so much, dad. I think it’s gotten harder being in the process of writing my proposal, submitting it, and working on the presentation. You should be here. I never thought you wouldn’t be here for this. When I chose to pursue a PhD, I made an effort to make sure you knew it wasn’t because of you. I was making the decision independently. And now I see your influence every day. You grew my curiosity, my compassion for people. My questions, in quantity and purpose, are rooted in the belief system you (& mom of course) raised me in. It feels so unfair that you can’t be here with me through this process and see it to the finish line.
I miss you, dad. So much more than I could put into words.
So instead, I wore your Italian 1994 World Cup jersey. I wore the ring and necklace I got made from Pa’s rings. I worked on my dissertation proposal with your PhD diploma right next to me. And I ordered a german chocolate cake of course. I did my best to honor you today, dad, and if there was a place as good as Zaps, I’d go get the fish and a margarita. I wish we could’ve just had a phone call. God, I wish I could call you and hear your voice.
My guess is you still got the fish and a margarita up in Heaven, probably with Steve Forrester. And I’m guessing you celebrated with Mrs. Susan in the morning, coffee and pastries on the porch. I’d guess you had your own german chocolate cake with Aunt Margie, Pa, Ma, and Uncle Jack. I hope you felt celebrated today, dad. I hope it was fun and full of joy, and I hope you looked down and saw us celebrating you too. I hope you know how much I love you, I miss you, and how much your still present with me every day.
Happy Birthday, Goat Dad, cheers to you.