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2003-02-25 - 10:47 p.m. Had he survived my father would be 63 years old today, instead he will have been gone exactly nine years as of tomorrow. It is a surreal experience to realize that someone's birthday will absolutely be their last. I remember wondering what to do. Ignore it? Celebrate it? And if so, how? What gift could you possibly give someone when life is the only gift they desire? So I bought a bouquet of flowers. . . yellow daisies, which in retrospect seems like a grotesque joke. . . and a cake which I knew he'd never eat. I guess I wanted to give him one last chance for a birthday wish. In the end it didn't matter because he wasn't conscious for it which was probably for the best. My father had been diagnosed with cancer when I was fifteen so exactly half of my life has been spent dealing with his illness and death. Its been hard to find a way to get past the mourning and heartache to the happiness that I want to celebrate his memory with. I've never found comfort in cemetaries or church or solace in spirituality so I decided instead to go to the place that my father spent some of his happiest moments: the bowling alley. My father was an excellent bowler, he once bowled 11 strikes in a row (a near perfect game) but I have no love of the game. For years in fact, I shunned the "sport" due to a traumatic childhood experience which my father played a part in. I was six years old and small for my age, and I desperately wanted to join a bowling league like my parents and older brothers. Because of my age and size my father had to buy me my own ball and naturally he didn't want to spend a lot of money on something that I might outgrow quickly. Thus my father bought me an irregular ball. It was five and three quarter pounds (regulation weight is six pounds minimum) so my father drilled a hole in the ball, smelted some ball bearings and increased the weight by a quarter pound. Unfortunately, the weight was unevenly distributed so the ball had an extreme hook that was an insurmountable handicap to a six year old beginner. Not that my father didn't try to teach me how to overcome it. He did but to no avail. My average score was about 35, my team lost every game, and I think you know where this is going, all my teammates hated me and said cruel and cutting things. I wanted to quit the team but my father made me stick it out. I finished the season and refused to ever bowl again. I didn't appreciate his actions then but I know now that my determination to succeed comes from him (along with some of my neuroses but hey, you win some you lose some). In any case, I know that when I bowled today I felt like I was doing something that made my father so happy and that helps me to remember him the way I want to. I think it makes my Mom happy too. This is the second year that we've gone and I know she feels closer to us both because of it. Only one thing marred the occasion, or should I say four things - the kids in the next lane, but I'll save that story for tomorrow. � 
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