Spending another of Dad's birthdays without him

I’m spending the dog days of summer complaining about the soul-sapping heat, and tweaking my teaching materials for the fall. Because of that, I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole of sorts.

I always reference my dad in leadership presentations, as an example of honor and integrity, and doing the right thing even when it’s hard.

Memories flooded my mind while I worked on my slides. I take those unexpected moments as a gift, a hug from heaven. I’m grateful to have another chance to lose myself in these flickers from the past.

The other evening as I walked in the back pasture, I had a flash of Dad talking to my dog Lucky during one of his visits. I had another flash of Dad trying to coax my dog Freckles, a particularly spooky pup, to come and take a cookie from him. I remembered Patchie the International Heeler of Mystery chomping at his fingers when he offered her a cookie. It’s bad form for a pup to miss a cookie and land in flesh, but dad wasn’t fazed and just said, “Eh, that’s what dogs do.”

In the church buildings in Tucumcari, I can feel his presence and remember the stories he told of different meetings and sessions taking place during his time there. I met the people in that church through stories, long before I began making the weekly drive.

When others share stories about him, it’s like finding hidden pieces of history, unexpected presents.

Whether because of the heat or my dad’s August birthday sneaking up, an epic cake fail popped into my mind. I had planned this elaborate angel food cake with a special strawberry whipped cream filling and icing. The cake was a Joy-of-Cooking image of perfection, and the mounds of strawberry whipped cream icing just shouted celebration. I packaged up the cake and headed over to the birthday celebration, driving slowly to not disturb the layers. Once dinner was over, I unveiled the cake.

Cake-astrophe!

The heat had melted the beautiful strawberry whipped cream, and the top layer slid off the bottom into a warm puddle of pink goo. Happy birthday had turned into a happy mess. In true Dad fashion, he scooped up the cake and said that it “ate just fine.”

As with most things in our family, there was a good deal of laughter to go with dessert.

It’s a bit of a jolt to realize this will be one more birthday without him here. There will be cake. There will be laughter. There will be stories and remembrances of the years he graced us with his presence. The common thread … the biggest gift … is love.

Happy birthday, Dad. Love you to the moon and back.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News and Quay County Sun. Contact her at:

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