So, sometime last month my sister was visiting our Papa in the hospital and she said to him “Wow. You’re going to turn 80 in a few weeks Pa!”
“What are you talking about? I just had my birthday in February,” he said.
“But it’s January now,” she said.
“Really? Already?” he asked, his eyes getting all wide. He couldn’t believe it. Time flies.
The next day he told his nurses “It’s my birthday tomorrow!”
They brought him a cake the next day. He was so happy. He loves cake, pie, cookies, chocolate – sugar of any kind. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t actually his birthday. I’m not even sure if he clued in. But my Nana and my Dad got a good laugh out of it, and they had some cake too when they went to visit him that evening.
Yesterday, sitting around my Nana’s kitchen table after we returned from the hospital where we had gathered around the ICU bed after the tubes were removed and the machines were turned off and we said our goodbyes and patted his hair and prayed prayers and sang his favorite songs as his breath faded away and his blood pressure dropped to nothing and he passed from this place to the next, my Dad suddenly chuckled and said, “At least he got his birthday cake.”
Papa would have turned 80 on Valentines Day. Rest in Peace Pa.