It’s Fang’s birthday again.
April 20 is an inauspicious time to have a birthday, what with it being Hitler’s birthday (also the anniversary of the Columbine High School shooting and the Deepwater Horizon explosion) and with the anniversary of the “shot heard round the world” (Oklahoma City bombing, Branch Davidian conflagration) immediately preceding it. (Let’s not even mention this week’s drama.) Something about the dates brings out the kooks and catastrophes.
Since we moved to Idaho, Fang has met his share of kooks and endured several minor, and a few not-so-minor, catastrophes. Because we moved here on my account, I feel culpable for much of what ails him these days, though of course some of it could be chalked up to aging. (Few people make it to 51 without some aches and pains.)
Could I say honestly he has been cheery in the face of various adversities? No. But I didn’t marry Fang for his light heart or devil-may-care attitude.
I married him because he is steadfast and (though he’d probably won’t believe it right now) resilient. And I’ve kept him around because he’s a caring spouse and amazing dad. He’s a chronicler of our lives and a creative soul.
He’s put up with so much these past couple of years, and as I pursue my academic career, I’m so grateful he’s been willing to play, as he terms it, the “descending spouse.”
I won’t be so cruel as to wish him another 51 years, because I know that’s the last thing he wants. But I will say this: I wish him happier days and months immediately ahead. (Let’s plan our escape, Sweetie!)
Happy birthday, Fang. Lucas and I are so very lucky to have you in our lives.
UPDATE: Here’s the text of Lucas’s birthday card to Fang. It’s too sweet not to share, y’know?