“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November“
That is the start of a poem, a nursery rhyme from the seventeenth century about religion, politics, treason and an impassioned ‘guy’.
this post has nothing to do with any of those things …
I heard the line a few weeks past and, in an instant my mind raced to the significance of the fifth of November.
On November 5, 1943, with the miraculous simplicity of the birth of a baby, the baby boy who would become my dad, breathed his first breath … and like a rock dropped in the water, ripples spread out, forever changing the lives of so many.
“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November
As I remembered the fifth of November, it was a memory of that date last year. I didn’t want to forget to wish him a happy birthday, so I called as I was driving home from work, speaker on full … so that I could hear him not hear what I said (yes, he had hearing aids. No, he didn’t wear them).
“Hel-lo” the phone came to life quickly … my mom not picking up calls that day, knowing that most would be for him, wishing him well on his birthday. He loved birthdays and relished the attention on his.
I don’t remember what we spoke of, though I am certain that he told me about who else had called him, where he and mom had gone to dinner, and how whatever he had eaten was “some good.”
What I do remember for sure is that it was our last conversation and … I was miffed at him.
It was so clear that he did not hear much of what I said (damn pride about those hearing aids). And … he just wasn’t right, not himself … and I longed for something better.
As we said good-bye, I rolled my eyes, wondering if he had heard much of what was said. I was miffed at him … and that was our final conversation.
“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November
This will forever be my final memory of talking to my dad. Within days he was not feeling well, then taken to hospital by ambulance, then …
If I could have a redo, I would have called him back the next day, been more patient, asked more questions, said I love you until I was certain that he heard it …
But, there are no redos … we only have today, this moment.
Thankfully, I have a lifetime of good memories with my dad, far more good and warm and positive than this last humdrum conversation.
Death is a part of life and we cannot live in relationship with other humans thinking that we have tomorrow.
Do it, today. Say it, today. Live with no regrets.
“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November
November 5, 2019, was my dad’s seventy-sixth birthday. Twenty days later he breathed his last, but, like a rock dropped in the water, ripples are still spreading out, forever changing the lives of so many.
“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November
itsawonderfilledlife 