My father has always been a sociable person who loves nothing better than chatting with relatives, friends, and ex-colleagues.
So it seemed like a fun idea to throw him a surprise party for his milestone 90th birthday at a cricket club in the English town where I grew up.
Our intention was “go big or go home,” and my sister, Alison, and I asked dozens of people to join the celebration.
We decided on a newspaper theme because Dad was the former editor in chief of a local newspaper. I spent hours designing the invitation, emphasizing that the event was top secret, and using the font of an old-fashioned typewriter.
The party was organized with military precision
Mom was also kept in the dark because we wanted it to be a surprise for her, too.
The guest list grew by the day as we contacted people from every part of Dad’s life, including his sister-in-law, cousin, nieces, nephews, and neighbors.
Most of the attendees were journalists who’d worked with him during his seven decades in print. We imagined his delight when he met them again.
My sister and I planned the party with military precision from our homes on either side of the Atlantic Ocean.
We bought runners for the tables, framed a huge welcome poster, made bunting, and ordered a massive cake that looked like the front page of Dad’s beloved paper.
Then, two weeks before the party, Dad had a cardiac arrest. He’d shown signs of slowing down over the previous few months, but it was a terrible shock.
Thankfully, the heart attack was relatively mild — but it was enough to keep him in the hospital, followed by a rehab facility for the next seven days.
Mom and Ali stayed at his bedside, while I made concerned calls from the US. It was horrible to live so far away while my family was in need.
The worry was bad enough, but I admit it was compounded by the fact that we’d organized the birthday party. Dad’s health was the absolute priority, but people had been looking forward to the occasion and booked train tickets and hotels.
Dad could have made a virtual appearance
I felt selfish for having those thoughts, but couldn’t bring myself to cancel the celebration quite yet. I consulted with Ali, who agreed we should reassess in a few days’ time.
While Dad quickly showed signs of improvement, we faced a dilemma. Should we do the “sensible thing” and call off the party? Perhaps there was a compromise. What if the event went ahead in Dad’s honor, whether he attended or not?
He was as generous as he was sociable, and wouldn’t have wanted anyone to be disappointed or sad. Besides, he’d get a kick out of all the tributes to him.
We sent an email to tell the guests what had happened. We said we understood if they wanted to decline, but hoped they wouldn’t. Dad could even make a virtual appearance on a giant TV screen, we said.
Most people thought it would be nice to get together for a reunion and celebrate Dad. If they couldn’t raise a glass and appreciate him together, then when could they?
To our relief, Dad rallied over the following week. He returned from the hospital and became quite jovial again. My husband and I flew to England as planned, and he was pleased to see us.
Nevertheless, a big question mark remained over the party. Dad’s medical team was impressed by his continued recovery, and Ali sought their advice. She wanted to know whether it was safe for him to attend. They said it would boost his morale and give him something to look forward to.
Dad delivered a speech himself
Obviously, we no longer kept the lunch a surprise and asked Dad for his opinion. There was no pressure, we said, but if the thought of a celebration appealed to him, we’d do our best to get him there.
His face lit up. “I can’t wait to see everyone,” he said.
We left it until the morning itself for him to finally decide. If he felt up to coming, great. If not, that would be fine. It didn’t really matter because he’d be there in spirit.
Still, proud and determined, Dad made it in person. He shook hands with everyone in the room and laughed at the speeches. He even gave one himself.
The party was a roaring success. Ali and I agreed that we’d done the right thing. We hadn’t seen Dad so happy in years.
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