Today is my father’s birthday. He’s eighty-one.
I visited him in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago. He’s been having some health issues—a broken hip followed closely by a broken femur. Both required surgery. After several weeks in a rehabilitation hospital, he came home in a wheelchair where he will remain for at least three months while his leg heals.
It has been difficult to rely on others during his recovery as he’s fiercely independent. He’s always been physically fit, too, so his body that once could do just about anything has become the enemy.
While he was in the rehab hospital my daughter Morgan flew out to visit. She realized immediately how unhappy he’d become and looked for ways to cheer him up. He loved being outside and moving so for an hour each day she’d push him around the exterior of the building in his chair. One day she asked if he’d like to listen to music during their walk as she connected her phone to Pandora Radio–he loves music from the sixties. He held the phone near his ear and sang at the top of his lungs to every song. He’d laugh as a tune triggered a memory then he’d share it with Morgan.
I took my iPad with me to Vegas and the first morning as he had his coffee and read the newspaper I asked if he’d like to listen to music. For the next hour (and then another hour later that afternoon) I watched and listened as my dad became joyful. His current condition had no place in those hours where the music moved him back in time. He wasn’t just remembering. He was there in that space where his body and mind were his to control.
He mentioned how good the sound was on the iPad and asked how much I paid for it. I suggested we go to the Apple Store if he wanted to buy one. He thought it was quite pricey even for a Mini. He’d have to think about it but in the meantime he’d enjoy listening to mine during my visit. I knew he wasn’t going to make the purchase so I decided to get him one for his birthday and I’d download Pandora and his favorite stations before mailing.
My father taught me many things but I think the most valuable was:
Make sure your children know they’re loved.
Every day when I was a little girl we had this conversation:
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“You’re the nicest girl in the whole wide world.”
“Nicest boy in the whole wide world.”
When I was away at college I lived with seven other girls in a suite of four bedrooms and a common living space. The telephone was on the wall in the common area where my father and I would talk once a week. The last thing he’d say to me was the above conversation. I was embarrassed to go through our ritual in front of my suite-mates, but he would have none of it. I’d mumble, “love you,” and hope to get off the phone without having to say my line. It never happened. “You didn’t say ‘nicest boy,’” he’d point out and I would quickly and quietly tell him as my suite-mates smiled and sometimes giggled at the childish expression. “Your dad is so cute, he really loves you,” said one kind girl.
She was right.
I’ve always known I was loved.
The tradition continued with my daughters and I relished the smiles on their faces as they repeated that familiar dialog.
So today, on his birthday, he’ll receive our gift. Here’s how we had it engraved.
He’ll listen to music and I hope it takes him back to a less burdened time. Maybe a song from the 1960s will trigger a memory of when I was a little girl and he was my hero.
I hope so because he still is.
My heroes are and were my parents. I can’t see having anyone else as my heroes. Michael Jordan
Hi Melanie, love the story and may he heal quickly. Happy Birthday to your dad. Tell him to enjoy the music and the memories.
Thanks, Irene! I’ll share your birthday wishes. He’ll love it!
MEL, What a great story. Who knew your DAD to be such A great teacher, and YOU to be such a good student. Wonderful to hear your lovely daughters to pick up where you left off. So happy birthday to the nicest boy, your best hero, and the greatest grand dad of all, may love continue with your entire family.
Thank you, Bud, for your lovely message. He is a great teacher.
Happy Birthday to your Dad Mel. You girls are wonderful to send him so much love & happiness through the music and memories this gift will bring him. Hope he sings out loud every day, making a joyful noise. Thanks for the heartwarming story.
Thanks, Tracy. My girls are pretty amazing, that’s for sure, and he’s been an excellent grandfather. Somehow I think he’ll have no problem singing out loud. Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment!
What a terrific story and a terrific guy! I love that Morgan thought to wheel her granddad around the outside of the building for an hour each day–and the music–how cool is that?! The sixties to boot. 🙂 Happy Birthday Melani’s dad, and get well soon!
Thank you so much, Kellie. Yes, it was such so cool that Morgan got him outside and to add the music was perfect.
Absolutely lovely! Here’s to you MR. Robinson!
Thanks, Joy!
Happy tears knowing that love is all we got on the long run. And nothing can replace. Two lucky humans to have given and received. Love you Mel so much.
Love you, too, Karen!
Beautiful story Melani. I see where you get your strength.
Thank you, Laura!
Hi Melani,
What a lovely story and a great Dad, you are fortunate to still have your Dad and Happy Birthday to him. You are a great daughter! He seemed like a great Dad, good job. Love hearing from you
I am fortunate, Maureen. Thanks for your comment!
Hi Mel,
I lost my dad a couple of months ago and your message really resonated with me. My dad was my biggest fan. Good news or bad, I knew he was always my biggest fan. I am a very lucky boy.
By the way, I have been following your blog and the woman I met online 18 month ago and I are moving in together November 1. If I wasn’t so happy in my relationship, I would be chasing you down. All the best.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Rick. We all need that person who’s our biggest fan. Congratulations on your relationship moving to the next level. How wonderful that you’ve met someone to share your life with!
So sweet!
Thanks, Matthew!
I, too, have a fantastic dad. He doesn’t move as fast as he used to. Sometimes forgets a thing or two. But he is still my hero. Happy Birthday to your dad, Melanie. May he be blessed with many more years celebrating life and inspiring his daughter and granddaughters.
Thank you, Rebecca. I will share your birthday wishes with the big guy. He is and always has been an inspiration.
What a touching, beautiful story, Melani! You are so lucky to have a father like that in your life (many of us didn’t) and he is lucky to have you and your daughters. I love the line where you say that maybe a song from the 1960s will trigger a memory of when you were a little girl and he was your hero. I hope he gets to read your blog. He will be so proud! Maybe what’s best is he left a legacy for the next generation – your daughters – a legacy of love. So Happy Birthday to a great man and I hope he is fit again soon! And by the way, Melani, you were pretty cute as a little girl and still pretty cute all these years later 🙂
I agree, Tim. His legacy was passed to my daughters, too. They’ll share it when they have kids, and so on. Certainly a wonderful gift my dad gave us. I am lucky and realize many grew up wondering if their parents loved them or worse, knew they didn’t. Thanks, also, Tim for your compliment. “Pretty cute” made me smile.
What a Great Father, and Daughter relationship. Happy Birthday Mr. Robinson. I have been lucky enough to meet someone in my life like your dad, and I still remember his kindness and humor. I’m sorry to hear that your dad is in a wheelchair, but it sounds like he is a really tough guy and he will be up and moving around soon. His whole way of thinking is probably not wanting his nice girl, and granddaughters seeing him in that condition, but when he realizes that he is only in that wheelchair for a little while, he will be up and walking soon. His attitude will change and he will be able to dance to those 60s tunes again with the nice girl, and Morgan and Chelsea.
Thank you, Noel. I’ll share your birthday wishes with Mr. Robinson! He is a tough guy and I have no doubt he’ll be out of that chair soon and ready to dance again. Thank you for the encouraging words, Noel. They are much appreciated.
My grandpa was the same with the music on my iPhone- he LOVED it; I put all of his music on mine and ended up giving it to him (actually I should say, he bought me a new one and took the old because he loved to spoil us!) Thanks for sharing your Dad’s day with us and what a sweet man he is-evoked some happy (and some sad missing) tears, but all wonderful memories <3 Enjoy all the musical moments you can with your nicest boy! Hope he has a great day and gets well soon.
Thank you, Liz. I loved the story about your grandfather. How great it must’ve been to see him enjoying his tunes. Music is transformative, for sure. A time machine of sorts. Thank you, again, for your kind words.
Brought tears of joy to my eyes….for you Mel and for me! Like you, my awesome dad (79) is my HERO!!
We are both truly blessed!!
Lucky us, Debbie!
A really great tribute to your Dad who was at your side when it mattered. Good thing you and Morgs visited to bring some cheer to his life. Nothing like good music to perk one up, and he needed some.
Thanks, June. He definitely was there for me when I was most vulnerable. I agree about music. My mood can do a 180 with the right song. Heck, I’m even able to go running (and I hate to run) with Bruce Springsteen or Beyonce in my ear.
“Giggle Giggle Giggle” means, “I’m envious!”
Ha, Louise! You didn’t giggle but you were the one who told me how cute it was and how much my dad loved me. That I remember clearly. AND you’re still just as sweet, my suite-mate.
Hi Melanie –
This was a nice reminder about the joys of loving our parents. As I’ve probably said before we’re about the same age and my Dad turned 81 earlier this year. The most emotionally devastating time I have had in the past many years (and this includes my recent marriage breakup) was seeing Dad the morning after a stroke. He would not make eye contact and was clearly devastated and working through the decision whether and how to continue to live. My Dad is by far the toughest person I have ever known. It took a few years but he has fought back from essentially a fully paralyzed left side to being able to walk, even run a little, and now continues to live with and love my mother. It is wonderful that we need not look far to find our heroes and our inspiration. Love is such a beautiful part of this human condition. Thanks for your kind and gifted writing Melanie!
Thank you, Kern. What a beautiful story about your dad. I imagine it must’ve been horribly painful to watch. I imagine many people who’ve suffered debilitating injury or illness have the moment you described. “Do I want to stick around?” I’m not sure I would have the strength to get through it. You’re right about love. It’s the most beautiful part of this human condition.
TEARS….
I cried while I was writing it, Jennifer.
Well, you did it – made me cry at work. Such a touching tribute to your dad. He raised you well and you, obviously, have passed that on to your girls.
Sorry, Ellie, but I’m glad the story moved you. Thanks for your kind words.