Happy Birthday​

MRD January 2013

Like many people, I have fond memories of my birthday.  As a child, the night before my birthday I could barely sleep - what surprises awaited me the next day?  As an adult, the excitement of the 20th has calmed.  I no longer expect presents and surprises.  Today the 20th is another day that I reflect on another year - and realise that I am getting older.

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This year was different.  The morning of the 20th opened and I went to work.  It was a half day for me, as the family was preparing to travel to my parents house for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I remember playing with my son, Kajetan, before we loaded up in our Suburban.  We had been driving for only 20 minutes when my mother called.

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"Hello dear.  I have some news for you.  I'm very sorry to tell you this on your birthday, but your grandfather passed away this morning."

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I know I'm not the first person to have a family member pass away on their birthday.  There is a 1 out of 365 chance it will happen. ​Initially I was upset.  Out of all the days my grandfather could have died, it was my birthday.  After much thought, I now see his death as a kind of present.  It sounds harsh, but let me try and explain.

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My grandfather was not someone who I knew extremely well.  He purposely isolated himself from his family his entire life.  It was 1998 when I first met him.  Early in our relationship he learned that I liked to play the guitar.  The next time I visited him, he had a present for me - a guitar.  I was blown away.  Anything he had previously given to me was nothing more than little trinkets - or cooking supplies.  The guitar was different.  This was a gift that he knew I would enjoy.  Afterward, every time I visited, he managed to ask me if I was still playing the guitar he bought for me.  I do. It was the best present he gave me.

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My grandfather also knew that I loved film and photography.  He knew I was a documentary filmmaker.  During a visit in late 2009, I asked him about making a film about him.  He agreed.  Excited, I planned to visit him for a week in 2010.  When that week came and went, I was left with a lot of stories, but not a single frame of footage. I clearly remember telling myself that my film would begin the day he died.​

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Obviously, I never told him this.  Did he give any thought to his agreement to make a film?  Then why the constant delays to start?  It was while I was filming in his empty flat, just days after his death, that all the pieces began to fall into place - almost as if he planned it all.  I felt that now was the time, and he was giving me permission to make this film. 

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Marek