You were born...long ago...long ago...long ago...long ago!!!!

Happy 50th Birthday Daddy! Wouldn't it of been the biggest birthday of your life so far? Pretty exciting if you ask me...but God had other plans. Not sure why he had to take you a week after your 49th birthday, but alas, He did (and He knows better than us all).

Last year I spent the longest time attempting to find you the funniest possible birthday card. I finally settled on a sound card that read:

Outside: Today is your birthday, an occasion of joy and glee, a national holiday it should be soon! I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be except for here to sing you this tune!

(There's a silly looking sock puppet with a cape and a birthday hat on...)

Then you open it up and it sings:

"You were born, long ago....long ago, long ago, lonnnnng ago!!!!" in a very operatic voice to the tune of "Figaro"....

And it reads:

Inside: Hope your birthday begins and ends on a happy note!

And I wrote:

"Haha, Happy Birthday Daddy! OLD GUY! Love you and miss you! Donielle.

You got this card late, I called a bunch of times to see if you had gotten it, but because you lived in Hawaii it took you forever to get it. So just a few days before you died you got my awesome card, and it made you laugh just like I knew it would. And just a few weeks later I got your birthday card back when I went to Hawaii to help Mom pack up your stuff so she could leave Hawaii. I keep it with some of your things I have at my house...it's the last card I ever sent, and the last card you ever received. If I'd of known that it was going to be the last birthday card you would ever read I probably would have written something like this:

Dear Dad,

I want to tell you how much I love you. I also want to thank you for everything you ever gave me, my love for music, food, and for people, my passion for life, and my sense of humor. You'll never know just how much you mean to me. And by the way, you're old! But that's okay, cause 49 isn't 50, right? 50 is when you're REALLY, REALLY old! ;-)

Love you from the bottom of my heart, and I can't wait to come visit you soon!

Donielle

So...yeah. Sad day. What is usually one of the biggest birthday's of a person's life, my Dad never made it to...instead a few days after he read that card he woke up with horrible neck pain and by the end of the day he had died of a massive myocardial infarction. Quick. Done. Dead. There wasn't a thing anyone could have done differently to change the result, it was just his time to go.

Almost a year later we get to celebrate without you, for you...Happy 50th Birthday Daddy. I miss you more than you can ever imagine. Promise me you're up there looking looking in on us from time to time.

I love you.

Melbell.

(for those of you who don't know "Mel" is my family nickname...my cousin Brandon couldn't pronounce my name when we were younger so he called me "Duhmel", which was shortened to "Mel" and given variations of "Ssssssmel"-how a snake would say Mel given to me by my Uncle Mike (of course it's my Dad's brother, do you even have to ask?), and "Melbell"-the nickname my Dad gave me).

Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium...a lesson on death...

Mr. Magorium: [to Molly, about dying] When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.

[pause, walks over to Molly]

Mr. Magorium: I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."

Molly Mahoney: [starting to sob] I love you.

Mr. Magorium: I love you, too.

[picks Molly up, sighs heavily]

Mr. Magorium: Your life is an occasion. Rise to it

What a beautiful quote in such a perfect and beautiful movie, and I believe it's how we all feel when we lose someone we love. Here we are...almost a year later and I feel like I'm finally turning the page after my Dad died. And that's all I have to say tonight...I just thought I'd share. BTW...I called my parents and made them watch this movie, so my Dad definitely got to see it before he died and so should you!

Apple Pie...

My Dad LOVED apple pie, I think I get my addiction from him. I remember we used to buy the frozen dutch apple or deep dish apple pies quite a bit and bake them at home in the oven. We could barely wait for them to cool enough to make it edible, often times we'd just dig into it and bear the consequence of a burnt mouth, at least we had vanilla bean ice cream to cool it off a bit.

One time my parents were gone for the day and I decided I wanted to attempt to make an apple pie from scratch (for the first time ever, mind you). We had a bunch of random apples (I don't remember what kind they were, now I know it definitely makes a difference!), pie crusts in the fridge, and most of the spices (I think I had to omit some we didn't have if I remember right). I peeled, cored, and sliced the apples, followed the directions in mixing the spices, poured all the ingredients into the pie dish, baked and cooled it all before they got home. When they got home and my Dad saw there was an apple pie on the counter his face lit up (I think he even giggled a little). "Well, let's crack it open!," he said. Not knowing what to expect, we all took our first bites of my very first homemade apple pie, and surprisingly it wasn't half bad! I remember my Dad saying it reminded him of being a kid, someone had made pies that tasted like the one I made when he was younger and it took him back.

So today, I decided to try my apple pie luck once again (only the second time in all my 26 years, which bewilders me as I LOVE APPLE PIE)...I'm happy to say my Dad would have been in taste bud heaven. I used 5 different kinds of apples (2 Granny Smith, 1 Braeburn, 1 Fuji, 1 Honey Crisp, 1 Pink Lady) and the results were above and beyond my expectations, especially since I pieced together a few recipes I had seen online and added flavors I love in pies like vanilla, nutmeg, and cinnamon.

Daddy, here's to you! For your 50th birthday in a week, you get a homemade Apple Pie...feel free to come down and have a bite or two when I'm not looking!

The Million Dollar Superbowl...

The first year we moved from Portland to live in Crooked River Ranch, Oregon, we lived in a rental house while our custom home was being built on some property my parent's had bought. We hadn't lived there for long when we got a letter in the mail from Publishers Clearing House. The letter was stating that my parents were finalists for the Million + dollar sweepstakes that was being given away on Superbowl Sunday. Not only was this hefty payday being given away, but it was being given away live on TV during a commercial break. My Dad was convinced that God was behind this letter, that there was no way on earth that the Publishers Clearing House could have found our address so soon after having moved, and that we were destined to win that jackpot. We sent in our official entry and we waited patiently for Superbowl Sunday to come.

I remember it snowed that Sunday and I had studied the area around my house to make sure I'd know when I saw them driving towards our house on the television. The moment came and I saw the people with the massive check on the TV...there was snow...THERE WAS SNOW...I thought, "Maybe there IS a chance! They're REALLY coming to OUR house!"...and as I watched them pull up to a house that clearly wasn't ours, surprising a family that obviously wasn't mine...I felt a massive disappointment come over me.

So yesterday, 14 years later, the Superbowl came around...and now that my Dad is gone I remembered that moment again for the first time since it happened, and I decided to protest the Superbowl, which I don't really enjoy watching anyway. Instead, a few of my closest girl friends and I spent the day at beautiful Arrington Vineyards, next to a warm fire and we drank a few bottles of their delicious Tennessee wine and made what could have been a bad day a GREAT DAY.

What I found interesting was what I found after I got home. I read through my Facebook newsfeed...and it turns out I'm not the only one who feels this way...the Superbowl is actually a massive disappointment for most of us. Whether it be Publishers Clearing house giving away your millions to someone else, your favorite team was robbed and didn't make the cut, the commercials weren't as funny as last year, the halftime entertainment was boring and off-tune...for the majority of us, it doesn't live up to the hype. Actually, nothing ever does. We build it up in our minds and the truth is that the reality never lives up to the dreams we create in our heads. And that's okay...just as long as you're willing to accept it for what it is...or make it something different. It didn't have to be my Superbowl Sunday yesterday, and it wasn't...it was something much better. Just like the day that Publishers Clearing House didn't come to our house, the important part wasn't that we didn't win millions of dollars, the important part was that I spent the whole day with my family. At that time we were building a U.S.S. Constitution model ship together, and I remember my Dad wasn't even standing at the TV when they announced the winner, he was standing at the kitchen counter gluing a piece of that ship together. He didn't care that we didn't win, he had already turned that day into something far more valuable than a million dollars, he spent that day investing in his family.

Pickathon 2006 - Wailin' Jennys - Long Time Traveller

Sometimes...

Sometimes I don't want to write about a memory. Sometimes I just want to state a fact...I miss my Dad. I wish I could call him and tell him about my lousy broken leg, ankle, and heel, and laugh with him about how I managed to pull that one off. I can almost hear him laughing, just enough to make me cry and miss him even more.

I can't believe it's been 2 months short of a year since I've talked to him and I feel like I'm the only one who's still grieving. Everyone has moved on (or at least they all do an excellent job of pretending they have), and I'm stuck in these awful, sad, and incredibly lonely moments I can't share with anyone.