Okay, I don’t want this to be a thing so keep it dialed down a little for me, pretty please.

I grew up in a household that struggled financially. Even though it was just my dad and I, it was still hard to make ends meet even after he got a stable job. That job led to him buying us our first house when I was in high school for $6,000 and after he made some major repairs to it, its value went up to $12,000. I know it’s not much at all by any standards, but it was like a castle to us considering at one time we lived in a two room house. You heard that right. Two rooms.

Anyway, when he took on the mortgage, there were weeks when he’d only have $20 left over for food. But on my birthday, he always made sure I had a coconut cake from Sam’s Club. It became a tradition.


After he passed, I didn’t celebrate my birthday for years. Never even had a coconut cake because it was tied too much to the grief of losing him. Over time, I started to integrate the cake back into life, just not on my birthday.


Last month marked the 13th year of existing without him, and I’ve only started to slowly allow the celebration of my birthday to filter back in. About four or five years ago, I enjoyed a birthday weekend alone in a beautiful setting. No celebrating. No cake or candles. Just me being thankful for my life on that day. And since being at my current job, I’ve had to endure the singing of Happy Birthday…the absolute worst thing to sit through. I say that with a smile. But it’s awful. So awful.


Yesterday we just so happened to stop at Sam’s and I decided to get a coconut cake. The disappointment that they didn’t have one kinda hit deeper than I thought it would.

I thought I’d go to town today to get one at this store who does them really well, but I’m the only one who likes coconut so it’s kind of a waste to buy a whole cake. Given how I was brought up, wasting food is…it’s just not something I can willingly do, especially on a day my dad would work hard to afford for me.


Soooo. This is what I’m going to do.


There’s a bougie restaurant/cafe in town with gold forks and cloth napkins that serves up slices of cakes they bake themselves. I’m going to venture there today for one single slice of cake, eat it a couple of days early, and silently thank my dad for being a man I can be proud to still love with all my heart today…and who instilled in me so many life lessons that helped to shape my 49 years of existence. It’s a number I’m not fond of by any means, but the fact I’ve made it this far is truly something I’m extremely thankful for.


*again, no comments or reactions needed. Just something I wanted to share as someone who finds it hard to celebrate their day.