July 23rd is my dad's birthday. He's been the picture of not being healthy for decades, too much booze, too many cigarettes, way too much fucking food. He had made small strides here and there, but nothing too big. Last year on his birthday, my wife and I told him we were expecting his fourth grandchild (our second, my brother had two before us) and he knew it'd be his last grandkid (my brother and his wife couldn't have any more, and there were questions as to whether or not my wife and I would have another, and we won't have another after this). Something snapped in him that day, he started bawling when we told him (he hadn't done that with any of the other three). He lost forty pounds within two months due to dieting, started exercising a little bit, never touched a cigarette again, and cut back on his drinking immensely. It was like he suddenly realized he wanted to be around for all this shit.

This is a roundabout way to say that he realized he wanted to be around awhile, and taking inventory of his current lifestyle was the only way of doing that. I'm glad he did. I hope you know that there are people in your life that are happy that you decided you wanted to be around for this shit, too. I know his habits weren't something as difficult to quit as heroin, but I hope you get my point.

Next year, I'll think of you, and hope you're in a tattoo parlor getting a slash across those four bars. Congrats. On behalf of everyone who cares about you: thanks, we're glad you're around.