Today would have been my dad’s 79th birthday. I find that so weird to say. The fact that it would have been. How long does that feeling last? I don’t honestly think I will ever get to the 6th January and not be sad or amazed at the amount of time passing. 

I remember when I was in hospital, my consultant wouldn’t let me go home to celebrate his final birthday with him. He told me, “you can celebrate together next year!” We never got the chance to do that. A fact that made me so angry for so long. There was no next year. At the age of 75, he was no longer with us to celebrate his big day. 

Growing up, a boy called Daniel had his birthday on the same day. I was always quick to tell him that it was my dad’s birthday too. Like that was a more important fact. Even though many people celebrate the same birthday day after day. I share mine with my best friend's ex-boyfriend in fact. Although, that isn’t important right now aha! 

I was and am so proud to have had my dad be my dad. Papa Tamburello was a real star. One that still shines bright in the sky at night. We were very close. So close that we annoyed each other. Apart from when I went on school trips, holidays, sleepovers and into hospital, we never spent a day apart. We probably spent less than a year apart in all my life. 

He held my hand when I needed him to. Gave the best hugs, which always ended with an almost painful squeeze. He was an epic grandad and husband. He knew what to say when you didn’t know what to say. He could make you scared to tell him things, yet, when you did he oddly understood. If you annoyed him, he would not speak to you for a few days, before apologising for how he had been. 

My dad had a cheeky sense of humour. Quite a dry, dirty one in fact. He would tell you off for swearing before shouting, “bullshit,” and “bollocks,” at the top of his lungs. When he wanted to be heard, he would start shouting in Italian. His real heritage, which showed up all the time, when people came round to the house or he ran into them on the street. Everyone was welcome to come to our home and to sit at his table with him. A place he would sit and wait for a deep discussion. 

Three years have passed since he died and I still sometimes feel like I can sense him in the house. I don’t believe he has gone. I think he is sitting somewhere, with my nan and grandad, enjoying all the grapes, mint imperials and cigarettes in the world. His old fashioned ways shining through, in a loving manner. 

As I write this I am currently standing in my brother’s house. A place I think he would have liked, even if he moaned about walking up and down the stairs to it. He would have been so proud of my nephew and his grandson for the man he is becoming. He would have loved how my brother is turning into him. I believe he would have convinced my mum to move closer to them in some way. 

Turning 79, would have been an epic day to have shared with my Pops. I always liked to throw him a party and I know I would have given him a massive one to mark this occasion. Although, I would give up everything right now, just to have been able to enjoy the experience with him. To have one more hug. To hand over a present he would have asked for. To tell him the hash browns he loves have onions in them, a food he hates, but never knew that has browns included. Honestly, I just want him back. 

My dad was one of my heroes, along with my mum, brother Gio and my nephews and niece! I am so proud to carry his surname with me. I will never ever give it up. My love for him will never end. I will forever be his daughter and proud of it. 

Thank you Pops for everything! I hope you have an amazing birthday wherever you are! I will be celebrating your day even with you not here! I love you forever and always!

Joey X