Hennessey and Heresy

“Happy Birthday Daddy!”

Yesterday morning, I had the distinct pleasure of opening my eyes, in my own bed, in my own house to my wife and daughter- my eden. This was a welcome a polar shift from last year, ringing in my 30s from the confines of my hospital room, undergoing treatment and questioning whether I’d make it to see 31.

It is easy to take for granted our home and aging privilidge, especially having never been plucked from it for days or months on end… As a result, patients and caregivers alike tend to disregard major milestones that fall within this timeline, not wanting to associate them with the horror of their reality. Having had years of experience with this, I have learned that this approach is a hinderance to progress and actually works in compliment with the disease and its destruction. It has already taken so much and at some point, I and others like me, deserve to dig our heals in the sand and venture to take back some control. I don’t want to underplay that this is a significant display of mental grit, especially in light of overextended emotional endurance but it is possible. 

Back to 31. 

These days, my greatest fortune is my health and happiness along with the health and happiness of my circle. A smile on my daughters face is worth more than materiality can give me. Though, I’m not entranced by these things, I somehow manage to be spoiled time and time again. Of late, I satirically refer to myself as the fashion fraud as I seem to have accumulated an abundance of designer gifts that far exceed my lifestyle. Then again, our lifestyle is what we make it, in spite of COVID, sickness and work or lack-thereof – we frame our experiences, for good or bad.

Who’s to say that the key doesn’t fit the lock? I choose to no longer subscribe to that idea. I might even choose to wear my LV belt to the grocery store and that is my prerogative. Faragamo to clinic? Perhaps.

Heresy I know. 

Over the past couple of weeks, in preparation for my daughters second birthday, my wife and I made the decision to seize an opportunity and resume a landscaping project that was started but my health halted a year ago. We set a goal to get back to this, following our relationship template and filling in the blanks: budget, design, compromise and maybe a little tug and pull but eventually meeting half way. The sense of accomplishment I feel being able to work on my own property, digging up the earth, planting our selections and observing the final product is gratification at its finest, however cliche you may think it is. Nothing is cliche about recovered capability, to be able to actualize what was once had and might have never regained is nothing short of elating. 

I take pride in every step, every project, in every sign of progress because though it seems never-ending, it’s a process. A process that cannot benefit from leaning, it is burly and brawny and without a doubt, uncomfortable- all the more reason to relish in the good-times in the sea of bad.

After 3 years of feeling alien, my best friend texted me that “I look like my old self” – a sentence that I replayed throughout the course of my day, realizing a milestone in a milestone. I was apprehensive to accept this and then saw the hypocrisy in it – especially following the aforementioned declaration of celebrating success, of whatever scale and form. 

From the morning onward, my family had put so much thought and effort into my day. Now 2/3 of the way into Geminis aristocracy, I am so pleased in the outcome of Natasha and my birthdays. Chilling under the sun, by the grill with a libation or 2 in-hand was “refreshing”. The sound of “Happy Daddy” projected from my daughter was music to my ears.

After months of planning and careful consideration, our focus turns to the grande finale in celebrating Marquesas 2nd birthday. We have a special guest and theme this year that will have her on her feet on Marquesa St…Stay tuned.

I reiterate that all birthdays (and especially this one) are privileged, I’m feeling wealthier than Bill Gates on steroids (pun intended) and can only pray that this trajectory remains steady. After all, that’s all any of us can hope. 

Here’s to taking-in the precious moments. 

Whatever your demon, limit its’ take. The succubus will drain you dry if you let it.