17

 

David and I are enjoying dinner with Dad in his apartment. After Adam left, I felt drained and didn’t want to cook, and David didn’t feel like cooking either. He’s had a stressful and disappointing day. He didn’t get the job for finishing the house because he just couldn’t underbid the other contractor.

Taking an easy way out for both of us, I’ve baked a frozen pizza and made a salad. Dad loves pizza, and he’s in a great mood while we’re having dinner. His favorite big band music is playing, and he hums along, off-key and out of tempo, as he chews his pizza. It’s taking him a very long time to eat, and most of his salad has ended up in his covered lap, but we are all happy just being together in his cozy apartment. By unspoken agreement, we put David’s disappointment aside during dinner and focused on conversation with Dad. But soon enough, worry lines settle on my husband’s handsome face.

Dad, exhausted from therapy, falls asleep with his plate in his lap. David insists on doing Dad’s toileting and bed-readying. I’m grateful he’s willing and able to do it alone. He can handle Dad much better than I simply by virtue of his strength, especially when Dad has already nodded off and needs to be awakened.

As I wash the dishes in Dad’s kitchenette, my conversation with Adam plays through my mind before my thoughts turn to the memory of a birthday card Jennie gave me two years ago. She had written it on behalf of Dad, and even though I can’t recall what it said, I can recall the profound effect it had on me. I intend to look for it after I go up.

Upstairs, I give Nick some much-needed attention. When David comes up he reports, “All taken care of. He’s asleep.” I hug him and thank him for his help.

He yawns. “I’m bushed. Let’s have a glass of wine and watch a movie. I may fall asleep, though.”

“Why don’t you put on a baseball game and stretch out on the sofa? I want to go up to my study and look for something, and it could take a while. I’ll be down soon and we’ll go to bed.”

“Sounds good,” he says through another yawn.

The file cabinet in my study contains hundreds of cards I’ve received over the years. Most are from David, but I’ve kept every birthday card I’ve received as an adult, for as far back as I can remember. I’ve been lucky to have so many good friends who never forget my birthday. While I can clean out my closets and cabinets and get rid of many things without a qualm, greeting cards—and the words written upon them—have a special place in my life, and I can’t part with them. In the past, when leisure time existed, I would occasionally grab a handful to read again.

Lord, that’s good for the soul.

Now I’m in search of the card Jennie gave me. I don’t remember what it looks like, so I have to open each card to check. I’m almost at the bottom of the first stack when I find it. The front of the card doesn’t even say Happy Birthday. It’s a cute, generic card that says, WARNING Don’t Cross This Field Unless You Can Run It in 9.9 Seconds. Our Bull Can Do It in 10 Flat. I smile as I open it to read the rest of the message. Age hasn’t slowed you down one bit . . . It’s just that, these days, you need a little more incentive to get movin’! HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

I drop down on the sofa in my study and start to read the words she wrote on it.

 

Dear Rachel,

Today is a special day because 49 years ago, you were created in God’s image and grown into the compassionate, energetic, generous, and intelligent daughter you are today. Knowing that Joe has some challenges with communication, we decided to help him express what is in his heart concerning you. My beautiful Rachel, you are an angel who always watches over me, making sure that I have the best of loving care. You do so much for me and with a cheerful heart. I can’t always tell you what I’m feeling inside, but it seems like you’re an expert at reading my mind. So read it now and know how much I love, appreciate, and call for you. The smallest things in life are some of the most important. Thank you for investing your time in making me such a big part of your life. I love it when you read to me, hold my hand, rub my forehead, kiss my cheek and surprise me with a beer and a hamburger. It makes me feel young again! From combing my hair, buying me new clothes, taking me out to eat and to my appointments, I have so much to be thankful for. You don’t just meet my basic needs, but see that I have more than enough to help me live an abundant life. I thank God for my little girl. Happy Birthday to my precious daughter! Rachel, you are my hero, and I love you, (and here, Jennie had drawn a heart and signed it) Daddy.

 

At the bottom she had added, “Give thanks in everything, for this is the will of God for you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18.

I lean my head back and let the tears flow again. It has been an emotional day, and rereading this beautiful tribute is a perfect way to end it.

No, there’s a better way to end it.

Filled with love and gratitude, I go downstairs to find David sacked out on the sofa, with a baseball game playing on TV. It’s a large sofa, with plenty of room for us to lie down together.

I snuggle up next to him, and he wakes up and pulls me into his arms and gives me a slow, passionate kiss.

“Let’s go to bed and make love,” I say, as I catch my breath.

And we do. My cup runneth over.