And That Will Be That :: In Memory of My Dad

I started writing notes on my phone the day I sensed that my dad was dying. He passed today and I am sharing some of those notes in his memory.

Today I sensed we have stepped onto the path of goodbye
And you are swiftly walking me to my car.
This is familiar ground.
This sacred ground here
At the veil between this life and heaven.
I feel oddly comforted
Because I know you want to be here,
Even as I long to be in our yesterdays.
On this path,
I know your heart will soon be beating
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar, isn’t this wonderful!”
And I must concede, that I know, for you, it truly is.
Two things can be true at the same time.
You will be free.
For me I sense the snapping of my deepest root.
I am unmoored as I begin to let go of you into the void.
April 11, 2025

We have shared everything from tough love, joyful love, and forgiving love shared in both directions. He has guided me through life since the beginning. He taught me resilience through example. He showed me how to walk through life with dignity and grace. He exemplified how to battle fears head on. He taught me how to bargain on the streets of Italy, how to persevere on the mountain’s edge, how to swim under the hot Texas sun, how to drive, and everything in between. My hero is exiting.

I’m sitting in the heavy right now. My body already knows. I have to force my body to lift off the bed and out, rather than be smothered by the overwhelming numbness pressing down on me. I must will my body to move forward.
April 20

Our Final Act

In our final act we respect your wishes.
We will use all the love you instilled in us
To give you the kind of send off that you desire.
One that is quiet, peaceful, and allows you to take a solitary walk towards heaven.
And as our final act of love
We will live like you want us to
Living on without you, making you proud,
Keeping every lesson that you taught us in action,
And excelling to be the best versions of ourselves.
As my final act of love,
I’m letting you go because you are ready,
I acknowledge that I may never be fully prepared
To live in a world vacant of you,
But I must dig down deep to live as an echo of you.
April 23

There is not a lot of conversation to be had anymore.
But the conversations we’ve had could fill volumes.
My entire lifetime fits into a segment of your life.
And it has been the honor of a my lifetime to walk with you
These past few years on your way home.
Our lifetime of conversation will stick with me.
The majority of those conversations were as
We walked in line climbing upwards towards a new adventure.
The crunch of underbrush plays an accompaniment to our trail conversations.

Everything I could hold on to has fallen from my fingertips.
There is nothing but goodbye left to say but goodbye.
And each time I say goodbye to you I am fully aware
That we may never share air again.

For you, Alzheimer’s became a prison cell,
And I know you have been petitioning for a reprieve.
April 27

I’ve been living in the shadows with him.
But laughter is our language
So we laughed in the shadows at the darkness all around us.
And tough love has always been our love language,
Sometimes our love may look tough
Especially as I give you the space you want
Even when all I want to do is hover.
It’s tough. But it’s love.
I will miss you in quiet and loud ways.
In small and big ways.
From my foundation to the air all around me.
April 28

He is dying of a terminal case of life. Today he practiced dying, because he wants to do all things well. He said, “After you leave I’m just going to lay back like this [he demonstrated]
And then poof, that will be that.
April 29

I will miss you in all the small ways that you navigated this world and all the big ways that you shaped me.
April 30

He pushed himself physically, spiritually, and mentally to be a better man, live strong, and at peace with himself in the world. He pushed me to do better, be better, strive harder, and to push past fear. He overcame his family history, his addiction, and his fears. He inspired me as a child when I witnessed him crawling on his hands and knees with fear escaping in groans as he moved inch by inch across a shale path far above the heights that he feared.

He inspired me by keeping his promises, living upright and dignified. His disappointment was my biggest fear and even though I broke his heart in big ways he loved me unconditionally. He stepped into the gap to demonstrate to my son how to be a man. He showed my daughters what a good man looks like.

He showed me the tough love that I needed to learn to live in this world with the heart of a poet, the mind of a scientist, and a rebellious spirit that landed me in a life full of hard lessons.

We’ve walked through the lowest of moments together. We had our hearts shattered and found new ways to walk amidst the void. He’s been my nurse through sickness and injury. And I’ve walked beside him through this long goodbye.

He fought monsters for me, stood up for what he believed in, and lived his lessons out loud. He taught me to turn to nature for medicine and escape. He literally inspired my entire career path in his pursuit of health, fitness, and wellness.

He sat on the sideline and cheered for me through every sport, every terrible note of music I played or sang, and through every academic setting. His joy was not in my performance but in my effort, in me showing up whether I failed or succeeded.

Because he believed in me, I believed I could do anything, still do. I lived with the expectation of pushing myself and excelling.

When I needed to live with the natural consequences of my choices, he held firm. He could be stubborn like that, and it was exactly what I needed. But when he lost the love of his life he knew it was safe to come live near me to regain his footing. There he rebuilt and moved away. And when the diagnosis came for him, he came to be with me.

I will be, always and forever, daddy’s girl even when he is gone.
May 2

He’s been inspiring all the way to the very end.
May 3

Obeying my dad’s wishes and flying away without knowing if we will share air ever again is one of the hardest steps of obedience I’ve ever taken. My respect runs deep and so I’m going anyway. Despite the tugs at my heart, honoring him was to leave anyway.

What I can’t speak past the knot in my throat, I will write out of me.

My brother and I are now the living breathing monument to how our parents once walked upon this earth. Bits of their souls have left imprints on us that will always shine. We are all the living breathing continuation of their lives.
May 4

I got the call that I was expecting. He laid back, poof, and that will be that.
May 5

In lieu of flowers please make a donation to Ebey’s Reserve, the wildlife reserve he loved so dearly that he and my mom chose a gravesite that overlooked it.