Our NY-based son (not like we have another son tucked away making the new iPhone 6 in a Chinese sweatshop) turns 27 next week and I know this birthday is going to be great.
How do I know internets? Because it HAS to be better than last year's birthday. His last birthday SUCKED.
It wasn't something I did or didn't do. Or he did or didn't do. It was beyond everyone's control.
Cole's birthday last year - the exact day mind you - was spent attending his grandfather's (my dad's) funeral. Whoaaaaaa...before you reach for the Kleenex box, lemme 'splain. This isn't one of those posts.
My father, John Martin Hill, was a wonderful man. Great father. Terrific grandfather. A really great, great grandfather. He loooooved to tell stories and was never shy about telling you he loved you. It's corny I know, but we were blessed to have him in our lives.
But that wasn't the best part.
He always made you feel that HE was blessed to have YOU in HIS life. THAT was his blessing and it's what I miss most.
Cole isn't coming home for his birthday this year. Work and other big city demands prevent it.
Instead, Charlotte and I are going to New York to celebrate. We have dinner reservations at a famous Midtown steakhouse where we'll catch up on each other's lives over blood-rare steak (Cole's favorite) and a not-too-expensive cabernet sauvignon.
Cole will leave with enough leftovers to stock his fridge for a couple of days. But, I also hope I leave him with something else: the knowledge that he's the blessing in our life.
You see, it's kind of a father-son tradition.