Some people don't believe in or have never even heard of celebrating half birthdays. Thanks to the two of you, my half birthdays even came complete with a small gift, usually in the form of a Disney VHS tape or a book.
But twenty seven years ago, you both gave me a half birthday gift that, at the time, my four (and a half) year old brain could not fully comprehend the importance of.
I don't remember much about his entry into the world, only that he was about as big as me, slightly cross-eyed, and didn't smell great.
Up until that day, twenty seven years ago exactly, I was your only child. An awkward four (and a half) year old, indeed, and not one for conversation according to the faux fam. In fact, up until I was about ten, many were under the impression that perhaps I was mute and one of my grandmothers was under the impression that I hated her.
Me and my half birthday gift would spend the next twenty seven years getting into our fair share of trouble together. With the help of my childhood friends, I would convince him we had been abducted by aliens and that he was really adopted, born to a nice Japanese family (How ironic that he's spending today in Tokyo, a place he always dreamt of visiting. You're welcome for the inspiration.) I would push him down a hill on rollerblades and throw one hairbrush directly toward his face, at which point mom would make me walk to dad's house for the first and only time in my life. Together, we would go through some of the most formative events of our young lives: A move from Pittsburgh to State College, your divorce, mom's remarriage, and dad's stroke.
As we grew into teenagers and young adults, our bond grew stronger and I started to proudly accept and appreciate the fact that the half birthday gift you had given me about fifteen years prior was suddenly not just my brother, but also my best friend. It was around fifteen that he really started to find his groove, and I now realize that he had officially inherited some of my favorite qualities from you both: A sense of humor but also humility, intelligence, and a great big loyal heart. My half birthday gift would eventually spend his high school and college years traveling to new and exciting countries, such as Haiti, New Zealand, Brazil and France, and go on to study abroad in Ghana, while I relocated to the sunshine state. We'd get into numerous fights, but at the end of the day, we've still always (mostly) loved being together.
I didn't realize how much I admired the qualities he got from you both until seven years after they became apparent, when we were faced with our most life-altering, earth-shattering obstacle we had ever faced to date: we became the two kids of a courageous and hilarious mom fighting brain cancer. Had I not had that gift beside me, I'm not sure what would have become of me. The kid I had spent years fighting with but also loving had suddenly grown into a man who was facing the reality of losing his precious mom. But besides that, he had also become my rock and my strength. I knew that no matter how bad things were going to get, we had each other. Ironically, the story was fresh in my mind about the time when I was around two or three and mom took a pulse survey to find out whether or not she should have a second child. And really, who could blame her? You can't beat perfection, so that bar was set pretty high. (Oh good, you're still reading!) It was my cousin Dana's answer that stood out most in mom's mind and was ultimately the deciding factor in giving me my half birthday present. An only child herself, Dana had explained that despite its benefits, that downfall was that when that only child loses their parents, they're left without any family. And so the rest, as they say, is history.
The face of my half birthday present at the foot of mom's hospital bed the day that priest came to deliver her last rites was something that is permanently etched in my mind forever. Less than two years later, I can still perfectly hear his shaky voice on the other end of the phone when I called to tell him dad was in the hospital and I was getting on a plane and flying home. He wouldn't make it in time, but I still remember his head nodding in affirmation when he stepped out of the airport and saw the looks on my face and on Aunt Mardie's.
Together, we had met with doctors, asked the difficult questions, and went from being taken care of by our parents to being your caretakers. I can still tell you the exact cocktail of pills mom needed every day, the dosage, and the number of times each needed to be administered. I still remember conversations about Power of Attorney for both of you. I can still remember the 73% mortality rate that was dropped on me when I asked about the risk factors of dad's surgery as what would be a failed last ditch effort to save his life because I just wanted to keep him there long enough for Neal to say goodbye. I can still remember giving the doctors permission to let him go when I realized enough was enough and I didn't want him to have to fight anymore.
Since then, I've watched my half birthday gift still figure out how to continue living an adventurous life while keeping the memory of you both in the forefront of his mind. At twenty seven, he's dealt with two funeral directors and two lawyers, delivered incredible speeches from the bottom of his heart at both of your memorial services, and cleaned up and sold our childhood home.
My half birthday present and I have been dealt our fair share of obstacles along this path we call life. We may never understand why it was us, but I don't think there's ever been a single second when we've questioned the combined strength of both of us or our survival skills when we're together. I can't think of anyone better to have shared the gift of being your children with, and the pain will always be worth it in exchange for getting the dance.
Happy Birthday to Nealson and Happy Half Birthday to me.
