50 February 2022 The Birthday Journal talking feverishly on the phone. No one noticed I was there, but I made out what had happened—it was my dad. He had been shot and killed at a nightclub the night before. The news reporter couldn’t reveal the identity of the man, but the “officers” my aunt seemed to be talking to on the phone helped me start to put things together. Therewouldbenobirthday formeafter all. I never did get a cake, a song, or the gift my dad promised me. I remember crying and hugging my mom. The only gift I could think of getting at that point was having my dad back. That never happened either. They say lightning never strikes the same place twice, but I don’t believe that anymore. Before my father passed away, my baby sister was born. Early on, the doctors noticed something was wrong, and after several weeks, they diagnosed her with a heart defect. After the news of my father’s death and at the request of hismother to have him buried back in Jamaica, my mother left us with her brother and his wife to tend tomy dad’s funeral arrangements. While my mother was away, my baby sister became sicker and sicker. Six months later, she too was gone. She was off to join my dad in heaven. My poor mom. Looking back, I thank God for giving her the strength to bear such heavy loads all at once and somehow manage to raise three wonderful and successful children on her own. I am in awe of her amazing strength and courage to this day. Several years after my dad’s death, when I was about 8, we had moved to a small suburb of Long Island, New York, miles away from our devastating past. I was a typical third grader; I loved school, but I was surprised one day when I was called into the principal’s office to “havea talk.” Iwas almost in tearswalkingdown the long, quiet hallway towards the main office, because I was such a “nerdy goody twoshoes” and I never got into any trouble. “What did I do?” I thought. But by the time I left the office, I was skipping so fast and smiling so hard that I almost tripped over the black patent leather Mary Jane shoes my mom worked so hard to buy. “I’m gifted. I have to go to different classes now.” I couldn’t wait to tell my mom. She only smiled and nodded. “I always knew you were smart and special,” she would say. She was proud of me, and that made me proud of myself, too. On every birthday, I remember how proud my family is of me. I celebrate the values instilled in me and how far I have come. I also remember my dad in a special way. Instead of mourning his absence, I choose to honour his memory by spreading kindness and love, just as he did. Every year, I light a candle and make a wish, not just for myself but for him as well, for his spirit and his memory to live on forever. For me, birthdays are no longer just about growing older but about embracing the gift of life and the precious memories of those who have touchedmy heart. And that is the greatest gift of all. “Every year, I light a candle and make a wish, not just for myself but for him as well, for his spirit and his memory to live on forever. ”
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