This is probably going to seem a little weird. Though he has been dead for nearly 14 years now, today I plan to spend a little time commemorating the 100th anniversary of my father's birth.
No particular agenda - for years now, I've occasionally been reminded that my father, if he had lived, would be x years old on that day. Each time, I laughed a little and shrugged it off - not a significant event. What I am tracking, I guess, is personal landmarks in the history of my immediate family - in other words, my own mortality.
Anyway, whatever the underlying sentiment, old Ben would have been 100 today. I intend to visit his grave, and I have purchased a very small birthday cake. After tea, I also plan to drink the last of the last bottle (of two) of De Montal 1965 which he bought me for my 50th birthday; I had previously bought him two bottles for his 70th, so it was not unlike a very slow and ponderous game of ping-pong. I can't think what else I might save it for.
My thoughts today will be mostly of unsentimental stuff: how peaceful my life has been since he passed away, how angry and bewildered he would have been if he had survived to see 2022, and some measure of gratitude that he spent his last days very comfortably in a low-stress environment, though (like the swan's legs beneath the surface) I was one of the privileged few who had to race around fixing things for him, making sure he didn't get upset and didn't upset anyone else.
All the best, then, Ben - happy birthday - thanks for everything. I guess I won't have to think about this any more.
By coincidence I started going through the last of my mothers papers yesterday, mostly stuff pertaining to the grandparents and uncle I never knew and can imagine exactly where your heads at, some sadness at the loss, happiness for the lives lived and nostalgia for the memories . . . may the wind drop and the sun shine on you Tony. H
ReplyDeleteVery touching it has to be said that February is a month of mixed emotions for me, my father was born on the 16th, my son on the 17th and my father died on the 19th . I always have a toast ( wee dram) on his birthday and last year maybe as part of the review of our mortality I started on the family tree and to date I’ve followed my dads side to 1794. The history will be for another day on my blog. At these times there is always a hint of sadness but I find that now there’s far more fondness for times well spent.
ReplyDeleteThese things come and go, and it's the same for everyone, but last few years my family has taken a bit of a beating, which leaves me with a feeling that everyone is just passing through, self included! My mother talks about little else (in her more rational moments), so it is gently doing my head in.
ReplyDeleteI started to write a different comment, but as I wrote it to hit all the wrong notes. I lost my parents when they were younger than I am now. I still do exactly as you describe; count the years and think they would have been so and so age this year. Which is odd as it is over forty years and something else would almost certainly have got them by now anyway. Don't we do the oddest things.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely. Leave a mark on the wall as you pass. He was my father, but there is nothing particularly special about his date of birth - it's as though we hang on to these things almost to prove the person ever existed. Once I've stopped remembering his birthday (for whatever reason) there will still be official records somewhere, but no-one else will remember the date, or him - why should they? In my family, and in the town where I was raised, there is an important oral tradition of telling the same old family stories over and over again. It keeps the stories alive (though they evolve a bit), and with them the memories of us and our ancestors. I have no evidence for this, but I suspect that the internet and fixation on living in the present and wearing the right brand of training shoes will kill off the tradition.
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