Happy Birthday, Papi.

I wish we were spending your fiftieth birthday in a different way, even though you’d say, “why? It’s just another day to me anyway.”

But I spent a lot of time with you today. “That sounds like my ass clown,” you said to me and I have never been more excited to hear those words come from you. I’ve seen you rise and fall multiple times, but this may have been the hardest fall, which means this will be the biggest rise from you too.

You didn’t loose a part of yourself in this. You held strong and kept your stubbornness and dedicated attitude with you. That’s the Aries in you, I’ll say. You know big astrology daughter over here.

From day one, you have taught us to take no shit. You’re dedicated to the things you love and you’ll scream it from the top of the world, if you could, and I love that about you. We’ve grown with you. You were a different man 10+ years ago and the growth you’ve made has been life-changing, honestly.

You make me laugh and cry. You make me think of the things I really want. You make me question scenarios and I need that push sometimes. You’re always providing me with the space to talk about the things that I question, regardless if you believe it or not. You let me talk when I need it and you just listen, even if I’m talking non-stop.

You’ve always been my push.
I’m grateful for the lessons you’ve been able to provide for all of us and how well you’ve instilled that into the way we were raised. All of us are so extremely grateful for the father you are and the Poppop that you are.

Happy birthday, Pops.

-K.