When my dad passed away at 87, I felt numb and devastated at the same time — but, more than anything else, I wanted to be near my mom and sisters.
About four months after his death, it was a no-brainer to spend his birthday together. We went to my sister’s house, and even though being around family felt like a salve, I worried that we might not be honoring him in the way he would have wanted.
My dad had an adventurous spirit and never let his age dictate what he could or couldn’t do. At 70, he became one of the oldest people to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro at the time.
He loved traveling the world with my mom and playing tennis with a group of men he affectionately called his “geezer friends.”
So, before his next birthday rolled around, we had the idea to celebrate him in a different way: by taking an annual trip in his honor. Every year, my mom, my two sisters, and I would choose a place and go on an adventure, just the four of us.
Although my dad loved to travel, we hadn’t really gone on any family trips since childhood. I wasn’t sure how our dynamic would be.
However, it’s become a tradition we all look forward to.
Our trips have helped us grieve what we’ve lost, while celebrating what we still have
For our first trip, we decided on Las Vegas, which I knew would offer tons of activities and energy. On my dad’s birthday, we ventured from our hotel on the Strip to the downtown Arts District.
Later that evening, we attended a dinner show inside the Bellagio. As soon as we settled into our booth, our server asked if we were celebrating a special occasion, and we told him about my dad’s birthday.
He seemed touched and also determined to make us feel like VIPs, at one point bringing the show’s performers over to our table so we could meet them.
After a decadent meal that included a flambéed cherries jubilee served tableside, our server took us on an exclusive tour that led to a secluded spot behind the Bellagio Fountain.
We were giddy with excitement as we talked about how much my dad would have loved the experience.
Last year, we chose Sedona for a more serene trip.
Our days were jam-packed with activities, just as my dad would have loved: embarking on a Pink Jeep tour, checking out the Tlaquepaque Arts & Shopping Village, and enjoying his favorite treat at Sedonuts.
One day, we took a trip to nearby towns Jerome and Cottonwood, where we browsed vintage stores, tasted wine, and learned more about the area’s history.
While waiting for our dinner table on the evening of his birthday, we enjoyed a glass of wine and admired the sunset view of Sedona’s red rock formations.
As we watched the sky fade into a kaleidoscope of colors, it almost felt like the sunset was a gift from him.
Traveling to celebrate our dad has only brought our family closer together
On our most recent trip, my mom, sisters, and I talked about how we’ve navigated our grief, both immediately after he passed and in the years that followed.
It struck me that this was one of the most honest conversations we’d had in a long time, and I realized how proud my dad would be to hear us talk so openly about our pain.
This tradition has been profoundly healing, and has allowed us to process our grief while cultivating joy and bonding with each other.
Now, instead of my dad’s birthday being a painful reminder of what we have lost, it’s become a joyous celebration of his legacy — which is exactly what he would have wanted.
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