Today is the first of what will be many birthdays without my dad. It hasn’t quite been a month since he passed away, and I’m still thinking what an odd thing it is that he is no longer with us. I know there is no correct way to feel, no template for grieving to follow. Still, I wonder what I’m supposed to be doing, saying, thinking.

Several people have told me that one of the first things that strikes you as odd after losing someone close to you is how life goes on. That may be what I’m feeling today.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become less interested in celebrating my birthday, at least not with parties, gifts, and the other typical accoutrements. I prefer a quieter affair these days. But, given the proximity to losing my dad, it seems especially strange to be celebrating anything right now. It’s a confusing juxtaposition of emotions to celebrate my birth while mourning my dad’s death.

Then I remembered we were celebrating Dad’s birthday only three months ago. There was no hint of what was to come. We ate at one of his favorite restaurants, and he told me about his latest discoveries on IMDb. I watched my dad interact with our server as though he had known her forever. He was especially good at that.

As I write this, a friend just sent me a text wishing me a great day and letting me know he loves me and is glad I was born. It occurs to me that’s what we really mean when we wish someone “Happy Birthday.” We’re grateful for their presence among humanity. It isn’t about parties, meals, gifts, or cards. It’s about gratitude for life and all that it offers.

Among the ways I can honor Dad on this first birthday without him is to give particular attention to living this day with appreciation for my life, which includes the gift of 59 years with a kind, peaceful, devoted father.

Thanks, Dad.