I personally believe that the older one gets, the more mushy one’s brain becomes. During one birthday party we held years ago at a private beach house for our father, he suddenly waxed sentimental when he realized that almost everyone was there to celebrate with him. Even as it had only been a few minutes ago when he had been beaming from ear to ear, he slowly turned to me and seriously whispered, “if only your mama were here right now… ” and drifted off. At that, all I could answer back was, ‘but she is Pops.’
When my father passed away in January of this year, we still celebrated his birthday when it came in April. During that time, we all gathered at Bajada for a big lunch to celebrate the special day even though he was gone. It was there I recalled, that his words uttered at the beach had then become mine when I thought, if only he were here.
Clearly for our big family, it always felt like all birthday celebrations were serious clan gatherings. Through many years, starting when we were little kids, either at the old house in Ponciano or much later at the compound in Belisario, birthdays always held a special place in the family calendar. So much that while growing up, I always thought that it was a clever excuse to party and that it didn’t really matter who was celebrator. Big as our family was, almost every month had a birthday or two, so that in a way, it felt almost like a family tradition.
I remember when mom was still alive and in good health, she loved it when everyone in the family were around during these birthday lunches which we liked to hold during the weekends. It mattered little to her if the adults were deeply immersed in their games of Mahjongg, as long as we, her children and especially their grandchildren were present.
During those early years, these grandies themselves have grown from crawly infants into kids running about the house, then on to being grown with little tots of their own. Even when she was busy at her desktop writing, you could sense that through the din, she enjoyed it because she knew they were around. In fact, she once referred our home in Bajada as a ‘happy house’ because it never run out of babies.
Now, with both of them gone, along with several siblings and elder relatives who comprise the first wave, birthday celebrations at the compound have taken on new dimensions. While we still aim to hold every birthday there, it’s eerily not the same as before. Even as we joyfully welcome and introduce every new grandchild or great grandchild into our clan gatherings, or birthday bashes as it were, I am definitely sure that not far from everyone’s mind is the single thought: I wish they were here.
