My dad and brother both had their birthdays last week; Dad’s was the 27th, Jeremy’s the 29th. I called over to my folks’ house last Tuesday and asked to speak to Dad. The conversation lasted a whole 20 seconds and went pretty much like this:
Me: Hey, Deddy, Happy Birthday.
Dad: Thank you.
Me: How are you?
Dad: Fine, how are you?
Me: I’m good.
Dad: Well, be careful.
Me: I will.
I knew I’d be fooling myself to hope for more, but at least I can be grateful that it’s one less drama to deal with right now. My birthday is next Sunday (the 15th) — part of me wants to do what a friend of mine did recently: just hole up in a bed and breakfast out in the middle of nowhere and hide from the world until it’s over. LOL!
Seriously, I guess I’ll be lucky if I get a phone call from my folks. Jim tells me that I’d be better off not wasting my time and that I shouldn’t care as much as I do. That’s one of my faults I guess, but I think I’d hate myself more if I didn’t hang on to the hope that it might get better … someday.
Oh well, here’s to hoping for “someday” …
And yes, I grew up pronouncing “Daddy” as “Deddy” … I have a Southern accent, so bite me! ;)