Semi happy birthday

So today was another day, differentiated from the other 364 days this year by virtue of the fact that as of 8:08 this morning, I had completed yet another revolution of the sun.



It was a good day, filled with kids bouncing in and out of our room before I woke up, friends singing me happy birthday as we walked into synagogue, rainbow white cake for lunch, a perfectly delightful afternoon spent running errands with my wife and our little man, and dinner out with tout la gang. On second thought, it was more than good. Thanks to my family and community, it was a great day. I'm blessed beyond words.



At the same time, it was more than a little bittersweet because it was also my first birthday since I lost my dad. I know I risk upsetting those closest to me by admitting for most of the past week I felt somewhat less than shiny and happy in anticipation of today. I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to feel celebratory when all I really feel is loss.



But here's the thing: As much as I'd like to undo the passage of time, I realize the universe simply doesn't work that way, and no amount of whining - on my blog, elsewhere, anywhere - will ever change that. Whether or not I accept the admittedly sad reality of post-loss life is beside the point. It's reality, and I need to find some way to live with it. It sucks, but it's life in all its flawed glory.



It wouldn't have been my dad's style to be subdued on a day like today. It's not what he taught me, and as I moved through the day surrounded by my family, it's not how I applied his lessons. So I stayed close to those who matter most. I watched them a little more closely than usual. I closed my eyes periodically and listened, hard, to them.



I can't hug my dad any more, but my kids can still hug theirs, and I owed it to them to be there for them, fully in the moment. Because life's too short to miss out on the fleeting, precious moments of happiness.



Your turn: Lessons of our fathers. Please discuss.