It’s my pa’s birthday today. 69. A magical number. He reminded me just how magical it is when I called him this morning 😉
He’s nostalgic. Missing mom. Missing our get-togethers. Missing us.
Before, we would all get together and celebrate each ones’ birthday – a supper during the week, and a big powow over the weekend.
That was before mom died. And when they were still nice people. Or maybe it was all just a front?
Now no one (except me) bothers. Every year (since I made peace with my issues) I make the effort. Lunch, supper. Whatever he feels like. Every year OB & BB does fokkol. Not a prezzie. Not even a card.
His school made a bigger fuss over him than we do. Okay, there are reasons.
He’d never win awards for being the best dad. He wasn’t. But he’s still a person. And getting older. And the only parent we have left.
Yet they are quick to run to him when they need money or help with this and that. Fuckers.
They make me sick