Father's Day without you...

It has now been 3 months since my dad passed away. the first of many Father’s Days without him here to celebrate. What a weird feeling... I wrote most of this for his service back in March but never really shared it with anyone that wasn’t actually there. I also told myself I’d start a blog one day… so here we are. Completely unrelated to anything on this site that is still in progress (other than who made me who I am today I suppose).

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I’ve spent the vast majority of the last year trying to understand, accept and not be angry at the universe for everything my dad had to endure with his illness over the years. Even though I knew it was looming, I was hoping I’d have more time to get acquainted with the idea of death and what it means for those of us left behind... and to somehow learn to process the abundant amount of anger in my heart. Now I am beginning to understand just how naive my existence was before I was forced to confront death’s discourteous blow.

His life, his influence, and his energy are inevitably linked to mine, and I now take comfort in that. Like the rest of you, I take comfort in knowing that my Dad is no longer in pain and that suffering is no longer something he has to experience. He will forever be in my heart, and I am grateful that I am a more caring, compassionate and empathetic person because of him. Still, I would forfeit any of the wisdom I have learned from dad and this entire experience for the sake of having him back, as I know you all would.

My father was one of my biggest fans and greatest role models. I could call him at any time, and somehow, he always had a solution to my problem or advice for whatever I was going through. Life will be so very different without him, but I am grateful that I was able to call him my dad. I feel lucky I never had to question whether or not he loved or cared for me because he made it so obvious.

I watched him fight and continuously surpass every “expiration date” he was given by each and every doctor he visited over the last 4 years, including this last one. He made it his life mission to prove everyone wrong, and for once, that stubbornness trait we share wasn’t such a bad thing. He was the most courageous and resourceful man and my hero. One time a few years back we were talking on the phone, and I told him I knew how frustrating and unfair this had to feel for him. He said something along the lines of, “It is, but life isn’t always fair. Each day you’re given, you may have to fight. Whether it’s a little or a lot… And when you need to fight harder, you fight harder. You do what you gotta do.” And he did. And over the past few months, this advice is exactly what has kept me going.

I will forever be grateful for everything he did for me and the memories I have growing up.

- From our matching corvettes (well my pink power wheels to your actual Corvette, but I felt super cool having one like you).

- From volunteering you to be my elementary school soccer coach even though you knew literally nothing about the sport (which then turned into 7 years of coaching soccer and then basketball). I’m still not sure you ever even touched a soccer ball before that.

- For taking my friends and I to concerts that I know you hated when I was young… but to then going to shows we both enjoyed, like Bob Dylan, with me when I was older.

- For braving downtown Austin during Spring Break and the South by Southwest festival to help me find a place to live after college. I’ll never forget your comical road rage that week.

- For supporting (and funding) every interest I had that I was convinced would turn into a permanent hobby or talent even though most never did… and god were there a lot….

- For teaching me to have a strong appreciation for music, which has ended up being one of the most fundamental aspects and outlets in my life.

- For allowing me to experience life and make mistakes without judgement.

- For teaching me dedication and perseverance in that you have to work for what you want in life. And that sometimes you have to fight for it and not let anything or anyone get in your way.

- For telling me to always chase my dreams. And if it didn’t work out, to move on and try again. But to never settle when it doesn’t.

- For letting me convince you to get a tattoo and allowing me to draw it.

- And I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to watch Jeopardy again, but thanks for the million episodes of that over the last 30 years, too.

Even though my Dad is no longer here, he will never be forgotten. His grandchildren will always be reminded of the extraordinary man he was. We will continue our daily morning car jam sessions of “Grandpa’s favorite bands” on the way to school. I know Kason will ask one day why we chose Thomas as his middle name, and I look forward to telling them all our stories. And for all those that I’m not able to tell, I know his siblings will make sure to tell them all the good ones.

Dad, I don’t know how we’re all going to make it without you. But, because of you, and the strength you instilled in me and so many others, I know we can. One day, or least one moment, at a time...

I will miss the sound of his voice. I will miss the way his face lit up around his grandsons. I will miss his hugs and a million and one other things. But it is worth noting, the last thing my dad would EVER want is to make people feel sorrow. Take photos with the people you love. Be happy.

And in the words of the Allman Brothers,

“When you can’t find the light, That guides you through a cloudy day. When the stars ain’t shining’ bright, And you feel like you’ve lost your way.

You got to let your soul shine Just like my daddy used to say.”