Today is my brother, Mark's birthday. It's also my dad's birthday. Dad would be 84. I won't say how old Mark is.
I know I've blogged and facebooked about this before, but allow me to repeat myself; I'm old now, and sometimes The Past is my favorite place to hang out...
I like remembering the day Mark was born. I remember a friend, Genevieve Kennedy, coming to our house very early in the morning to take care of Bev, Karen and me, because Dad had to take Mom to the hospital. Then there must have been a big long commercial or something, because the next thing I remember, it's much later and Dad is sitting on the floor with us girls, leaning back against the couch, telling us about our baby brother. I can still hear him say, "Yep, that's the best present she ever gave me."
May I digress here, and tell you one other memory I have of when Mark was a baby? Well, he was crying in his crib, and Mom was changing him or comforting him or something, and I was watching her. That baby boy's skin was deep, deep red from all the screaming, and I innocently asked "Do you think he's a Negro?" I really didn't understand why she laughed, or why she told the story over and over again, every chance she got. I honestly thought some people just were, and it didn't have anything to do with ancestry. And I kind of think things would be better if that were the case.
Well, the last time I saw my dad was the day after his birthday in 2007. He died January 4, 2008, and this is the 6th time we've celebrated his birthday without him. We all still miss him like crazy.
But Mark -- Dad's best gift -- is still here to celebrate. Since Dad's been gone, we just don't get together to celebrate often enough. I saw him for breakfast yesterday, and just like every time I see him, I felt happy, content, blessed...I love both of my brothers and my sisters in a way that only siblings can love. But today I'm thinking about Mark.
Happy Birthday, Mark! Here's to you. And to Dad.
