Fiftieth Birthday

Finally, another poem. It took me awhile to gather the strength to post it. I wrote it in December.

Dad and me, 1992.

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You would have been fifty today.
We would go out to lunch perhaps;
My mom would be there
and grandma would leave the house, for sure,
and your friends, who would remember you then
because you sold them cars cheaply, gifted them,
lent them money, and forgave…
It would be a nice celebration; I would have made you
a cake with fifty candles.
I would have cried out of happiness and pride
as you try to blow them all out in a single breath.
Those tears would have been colder, gentler and brighter
than those I cry today.

No, this is not a dream
it is your countenance
looking at me from the mirror;
this is a reality of a thousand chimes
that rattle from a ray of light;
from there your outline reaches out
and reminds
that you are my part.

I would gift you a video game.
And we would play for hours,
like when I was little.
I watched you play, and even today
it reminds me of you.

Surely you would joke around; on purpose and by accident,
like that time we went to a party
and you got us out of the car just to show us,
all happy, the place where the “prain tasses”.
We laughed for days.
I never understood why kids didn’t like dad’s jokes,
because I always loved yours.

No, this is not a dream
it is your countenance
looking at me from the mirror;
this is a reality of a thousand chimes
that rattle from a ray of light;
from there your outline reaches out
and reminds
that you are my part.

Sometimes I think about parallel worlds,
and how in one of those you must celebrate just like this.
So, because of that picture, in which my double is hugging you,
I wish you a happy birthday, dad.