33 Birthday Cakes, First Time Solo

33 Birthday Cakes, First Time Solo

It’s my birthday today, but it’s also my dad’s. It’s also been just about 6 months since he died. I don’t know what to do with myself today, since it’s the first of the rest of my birthdays I don’t get to share with him. I’m not ready to celebrate. Instead, here’s what I had to say about my dad 6 months ago, and here’s the last shared birthday cake photo we took together when I turned 30 and he turned 56.

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My dad had a few last requests when he was diagnosed with cancer only 10 days ago: to have a living wake where he could see his family and friends, to eat a 16 oz steak and a lobster tail, and to get out of the hospital and home to see his birds. These requests pretty much outline the person that he was: his family and friends were near and dear to his heart even when far away, happiness for him was a good steak and the correctly chosen seafood, and he took pleasure in the little things like his garden and watching the birds.

His strength and personality in the last week of his life represented who he was as well. Despite the adversity of sickness he experienced, he was still my dad in his last days. He was still able to make people laugh and tell them he was going to need to negotiate with Peter to let him through the gates. He also said he was happy that he did not have to “watch the Phillies lose another season this year”. He commanded with clear cut precision how he wanted his pot roast sliced when I fed him, he knew how to explain where his pains were and how to request Doris to move that pillow to the left, or a little more to the right. He made funny faces at me and told inappropriate jokes. The nurses in the oncology ward were smitten him. He was full of passionate stories. The last story he told me was about how my mom and he used to drive around and pick up scrap metal to sell back to the junk yards.
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Here are some things I’d like everyone to know about my dad, especially in his recent years:

I was born on my dad’s birthday. We have had a shared birthday cake for 32 years. I used to complain that I never had my own birthday cake, and my dad teased me that it was worse for him, since his name got downgraded on his cake from “Paul” to “Dad”. It was a running joke between us, and the reality is that our shared birthday was just another way that showed how special and unique the bond was between us. I will always celebrate his birthday in the future when I celebrate my own.

He loved his garden and tending to his flowers. He would meticulously tend to his garden every spring and summer. At each of my visits, he would walk me around the garden and show me each and every flower that was growing. He and Doris spent so much of their free time in the garden and caring for their house. We tried today to represent the flowers that he loved so much, and I’m sure he would complain that we got some of them wrong.

For years, we have completed a crossword puzzle together every time I have seen him. The smell of a pencil and newspaper remind me of him. Only a few days ago, I sat in his bed and read him out clues. The last one he solved for me was “Orange and black flier, 6 letters.” He told me the answer was “Oriole.”

My dad was memorably super intelligent to a lot of people. He is the smartest person I know and I am proud to say that. You can never play Jeopardy with him because he will know the answer before you finish hearing the question. When I started traveling and eventually moved to Europe, we would be on Skype weekly and he would tell me facts and history about any city in the world that I would be visiting. It never ceased to amazed me how much he knew about everything. He told me in his last days that he was so proud of me for living abroad and traveling, and i am forever grateful that he left me with that.

He called me names like “Wabbit” and “Duckyface” and “Sweetiepie”. I see him in my nose, my hands, and my toes.

One of my best memories of him was driving to Boston in his rented Seabring convertible. We listened over and over again to Led Zeppelin and Creedence Clearwater Revival. Because my dad loves reminiscing and he always wanted a good time, I’d like to spend the last minutes together listening to one of his favorite songs. Please think about your favorite memories of him and please help me and Doris to ensure that he is not forgotten.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aae_RHRptRg

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I’ve Become My Parents.”

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Finding New Life Currencies

It’s been almost a year and a half since I started this blog, and things have changed quite a lot.  

Since moving to Amsterdam, I’ve seen over 30 places across 14 countries, some multiple times.  95% of these places I’ve visited have been first time visits to new countries or new cities for me.

What happens when you go from seeing 1-2 new places a year to 30+?  You get used to it.  Just like a fish that grows bigger in a bigger fish bowl that it is given, or people whose “needs” become inflated when their income rises, everything in life normalizes around your new level.  I find myself having to watch for how I present travels to my friends and family at home. I have to remember what it was like before I moved here, to hear what people that had these opportunities or this access sounded like to that version of me.  I have to put myself back in my old shoes.

You learn to become comfortable with being uncomfortable, because it is your new normal.   I bounce greetings and thanks across different languages without being ashamed at my poor accent. I meet new people from countries around the world regularly, and I learn new cultural nuances, witty phrases, political stances, and social sensitivities. On a more practical level, I don’t think twice that I will not understand emergency announcements or delayed train explanations on a platform. I am comfortable that my iPhone may very well not work, and that I’ll need to find my way without the blue dot of Google Maps.

This concept of normalizing to new levels, spun negatively, feels like you are never satisfied.  Spun positively, you can always handle what you are given.  Other things that happened this year that are pretty major: I got engaged, I’m planning two weddings (thanks to my marriage to an Australian, I get a legal we-need-to-apply-for-a- green-card-stat ceremony with family, as well as our dream wedding in France), my father died unexpectedly when I lived across the world away from family and friends, and as a result of the overwhelmedness, lack of motivation, and severe lack of focus, I’ve decided to reevaluate the career I’ve been had for the last 10 years.  

So I’m in a place I never saw myself in even 3 years ago:  in a loving and committed lifelong relationship, fatherless, and questioning my career.  Re-defining who I am now is quite a feat; I call it, “finding my new life currency”. What is that thing that now defines my value?  I thought that once I “made it” in my New York career, that I had everything figured out.  I figured out how to define my value in life, and anyone doing it differently was not as smart, not as motivated, not as strong-willed.  Having my job and excelling in my career defined me. Working hard and late, having many projects running at the same time, spending my hard earned money on rent, eating out, and drinking defined me. Being a New Yorker defined me.  

I wasn’t unhappy, but there was a time limit to this way of living for me.  Once I hit a certain age or time of my life, I suddenly realized that I didn’t actually care about the job I was doing; I was just really motivated that I was really good at doing it.  I realized that this was not enough for me – being really good at something I really didn’t care about.  It was time to move to a different place and change my perspective.  

Throughout this process I am finding a way to learn and believe that parallel or sideways growth is just as much a movement upward as moving upward in your job or your income level. My first mentor once told me that a great and fulfilled life does not look like a ladder that only climbed up in the end, but instead is a mosaic of different points, skills, jobs, and experiences.  And when you stand back to look, it has actually resulted in a beautiful piece of art.