Dad's Surprise Party

We lit the many candles positioned on the cake for Dad’s birthday and waited for him to enter the room. Each candle seemed to shine out a memory of our lives together, important times shared with us throughout the years. So many pictures and memories flooded my mind, a few came through clearer and brighter than the rest. The newest ones flashing forwards in quick flow. I reflected more and more, older memories became clearer too. A smile on my face grew, as I enjoyed the trip of fond images of Dad, presented before me like a photo album of memories…

My niece stood on a chair next to me ready to jump off and surprise dad when he came in. I thought back to 2016 when she was born, my brother and his wife’s first child. The joy and delight on Dad’s face as he became ‘Grampa’ was something to behold. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile so much, you could hardly get him to hand her over to anyone else, and while it may have taken three hours to instruct him over the phone, he eventually managed to make his phone background a picture of her, it has been since.

Only the year before her birth, we all gathered at a wine estate down South for my brother’s wedding. I’m sure if you asked him anytime before his grandchildren were born, that day was his favourite in years, dressed in his best suit, with his Gordon Clan scarf around his neck, he was every bit the dapper father of the groom, full of cheer and surprises throughout the day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dance except that day.

Unless you count what he did at my nephew’s first birthday as dancing … Holding his grandson’s hands with his own, and placing the little bare feet atop his own shining shoes. Moving to the music playing, so I guess that’s two times for dancing dad!

We still waited patiently for him to enter the dining room, all ready to shout a big “surprise!” when he did. Looking over the presents on the table, another candle flickered in my eye line, it made me think of my University Graduation. I finished my degree in 2013, but the ceremony was early the following year. Dad and Mum made the drive up to Newcastle, even though I had told them not to bother, that I wasn’t even fussed about going, they could mail the certificate to me later.

“Absolutely not,” said Dad. “You’ve achieved something great, and you need to let that be acknowledged.”

Well, that was it. Once Dad said something had to happen, it happened. He was right, as I waited near the stage for my name to be called out, I looked into the sea of faces and saw mum and dad sitting together in the crowd. As my name was called out, a strange murmur began in the audience. Likely due to the fact I was dressed as a pirate and barefoot, I was a drama major after all. In the distance I saw one figure rise to their feet, cheering and whooping loudly. Only my Dad would be that proud and enthusiastic of such a strange child at their graduation. Last time I saw him this excitable, you must remember my niece and nephew were not yet born, it was the premiere of a student film I took part in. There was a red carpet at a big cinema in the city, way over the top for what turned out to be an embarrassingly bad film, in fact I think it would challenge The Room for worst film ever made. As I walked down the red carpet with friends from the course. A sudden cry for my attention, who was it? Of course my Dad, holding out a notebook and pen and asking for my autograph. What a legend, I thought as I signed it, ‘to my biggest fan.’

‘To my biggest fan.’ I wrote once again for dad, this time on the cover page of a book. When I had my first novel published in 2023, he demanded to be the first with a signed copy. No one believed in me more than dad, including myself, throughout the writing and publication process. I even think I spotted a small fleck of tear in his eyes when he first read the dedication to him in the front of the book. Today for his latest birthday, I haven’t been able to buy anything fancy, but I think he’ll still enjoy the surprise. The first draft of the final book in my fantasy trilogy is ready, printed and bound, sitting on the table of gifts.

I looked over to Mum, waiting with the rest of us for dad’s surprise birthday, I thought about how great their 30th wedding anniversary party had been back in 2006. Dad had enlisted the help of my brother, myself, and a bunch of Mum’s friends, he also must have called in a bunch of favours from his days in the Police to pull such a feat off so well. He arranged a surprise party where Mum had to solve a murder, but with everyone playing a part and acting out the story for her as a detective. Mum has always been a big fan of whodunits and detective stories, so Dad pulled out all the stops for this party and made it all about her. It was an amazing night, after the ‘crime’ was solved, it was the doctor, played by my cousin, by the way. The night continued with a great party with all their friends around them, and Dad even danced with Mum, so I have seen him dance three times. At the end of it all, they stayed in a really nice hotel for the night, and the rest of us went home.

He sure is taking a while to come in, maybe he’s finishing an audiobook chapter in the car. He’s been known to do that.

I glance over to the bench that’s been set up as a bar for the night, cold cans of Guinness in neat rows, gosh, I’m thirsty. They’re basically just for Dad and me, one of the great passions we share is our love for the black gold of the emerald isle. Dad took me for my first drink in a pub on my eighteenth birthday in 2004. He made sure we went to a pub that served Guinness on tap and he bought me my very first pint in a pub for that birthday. To me that is still one of the best birthday gifts I’ve ever received. Just Dad and me, sitting at a pub and talking over a drink, like equals for the first time. Every time I have a Guinness I cannot help thinking of that moment, and it is something I try to replicate as often as possible. On that day it was hard to see myself as an adult, even if Dad clearly did, only months earlier in November 2003 I graduated school, at that graduation he was somewhat more subdued that he would be at the still yet to come Uni graduation. Possibly because Mum worked at the school, so there would be two people he embarrassed if he carried on weirdly there. It was still a great feeling to see his big cheeky grin in the crowd as I went up to shake the Principal's hand and receive my certificate. After the ceremony was done, he came to me and shook my hand firmly. He wanted to be the first, after the Principal, to congratulate me as an adult for graduating. Then of course pulled me in for a big hug, there was only so much he could do to fight off the embarrassing nature of being a Dad.

That always remained the same, throughout all the years. In January 2021 when I lost my job due to the pandemic, and had to move back home in my mid-thirties, I remember the openness and welcoming that Dad and Mum showed. There was no judgement or pity, just love, compassion, and understanding. The silver lining of it all made itself clear as I have gotten to know my Dad in an entirely new way, and have become far closer than ever before. It is a different relationship with your parents when you’re in your thirties. Mum is always going to be Mum, she’ll worry about the smallest things, inform you it’s “time for bed” when they’re heading to bed. But with a Dad it’s something altogether different, it’s like you’re equals now. With the added bonus that he gets to have someone in the house again that appreciates his jokes. Of course He now knows I was always holding something back, he knew, but never pressed for information. Just made it clear he was there if I needed to talk, but what I still had to tell them …

SNAP

A candle flickered brightly, giving off a soft crackle as something reacted with the flame, I jumped a little. My mind flooded with the anxiety and fear that filled it the day I sat my parents down to tell them something major, something that would change everything forever…

‘I’m transgender,’ I told them that fateful afternoon. The silence was … heartbreaking, I felt as if it lasted hours. It was in reality only minutes, but it felt so silent, so still that day. There was shock, there was surprise, but most of all there was love. That was the main thing that dad made clear, he may not understand, and might never do so. However that would not stop him loving me, or mum loving me. It’s been a journey of patience, growth, and understanding for all of us. He’ll text me sometimes to check if something is okay or ‘allowed’. Like buying me flowers, the first time he did he called me up a little flustered and apologising.

‘I bought you some flowers but then didn’t know if that’s what I should do or not? Is it sexist to buy you flowers now? I never did before, when you were a- um, you know? Is it okay or should I return them?’

I laughed so hard it took a while to give the all clear and thank him for doing it. When he got home that night we went to the pub for a dad and daughter night. We had one of our deep and meaningful conversations over a Guinness, some things don’t change. I Explained that I always wanted things like flowers, dolls, dresses, all the ‘girl stuff’ but was always too nervous to ask for it as it might be seen as weird. One thing that has only gotten stronger since coming out to dad is our relationship, it’s never been stronger. Now I only wish I had told them sooner … we could have had so much more time with things being right like they are now.

We hear his footsteps approaching, then the door swung open, the force blowing out the candles and thrusting us all into darkness. As my eyes begin to readjust to the light, I find them blinded by how bright it is, it’s broad daylight and I’m outside. I can hear children playing soccer in a nearby park, I look around and realise where I am. What I have been doing. I must have closed my eyes, and gotten lost in thought. The breeze blows and chills me somewhat, I look down to the ground and remember why I came here.

“Happy Birthday, Dad.” I say to the slab of cement sticking from the ground, “Remember how Grannan nearly fell in there with you?”

I chuckle softly recalling the moment my grandmother almost fell into his grave at the burial. I recall on the day not moving to help her, knowing if she had fallen in, I would have laughed far too loud for a cemetery.

I look at Dad’s grave in the field of grass, now weathered and worn in, looking in place amongst the others unlike the day he was buried, I liked to think he too would have laughed if she had fallen in.

I stare a bit longer at the headstone, knowing now all the images and memories of what could have been, were just that. How I wish things had been, what I imagine would have happened at those times. All the things to still come that he won't be here for; his grandchildren graduating, walking me down the aisle, reading my novels, retiring with mum and becoming amateur detectives, okay that one might not happen, so many other events and moments that will be bittersweet with dad not here.

Dad’s headstone speaks volumes without making any noise, all those memories I was lost in, while standing here.

Nothing more than … wistful pictures of the past.

G.P.A

January 1950 - July 2003