My dad died on his 64th birthday, 16 years ago.
On July 19th, 1983, the date of my dad’s 50th birthday, I was at Evanston Hospital, laboring oh-so-slowly on the long march toward the birth of my first child. That little girl did not make her appearance until lunchtime of the following day, July 20th, 1983.
My daughter’s birthday is a next-door neighbor to this day on the calendar – this day that contains both my dad’s birthday and the anniversary of his passing. Perhaps because it is a milestone birthday for my daughter, who turns 30 this Saturday, I am remembering her birth. And one of the sweetest memories of that sweet and sacred time in my life has my dad smack-dab in the middle of it. [Read more]