A Note About My Dad

It's been a year.

I had to take almost a full year off of this blog because my father was very ill last year. He passed away in May.

Before retirement, dad was a ground transportation firefighter and rescuer. Basically, if you got into an accident, your car caught fire, or some other situation that involved the roadway/bridges/tunnels, Pat was coming to save ya.

He’d seen a lot of tragedy in his life, both personally and professionally.

He worked really hard and supported me, especially financially and academically, so I could graduate from college (something he never got to do) so I could go into a different kind of industry and hopefully have a better life experience.

Today I work in corporate communications and operations. As you can imagine, the only “fires” I’m putting out are abstract and not a life or death matter. I know he was proud of my career, but I hope he knew how proud I was of him.

He was a hippie. He taught me about organic food, sustainability and Ralph Nader when I was a kid. I used to roll my eyes but look at me now — a hippie vegan pushing plants and sustainability on people!

Despite knowing so much about environmental toxins and the importance of nutrition, he found it hard to implement good habits into his own life. He suffered from addiction issues. He smoked way too many cigarettes…

When he started to decline, it really wasn’t a shock, but that doesn’t mean it was easy to watch.

Despite all of his challenges, my father loved his family fiercely. If we needed something, he’d do his best to provide it, and he was always there for me — even in my worst moments. He could give me a talking to when I needed it, but it was always soft, gentle, and from a place of unconditional love.

He was quite literally brilliant — an autodidact who continued to educate himself through books and periodicals all the way to the end. He never even had a computer. He was the computer!

You could ask him about any subject and he’d confidently speak on it for hours. I learned more from him about the humanities, nature and science than I ever did from school.

So, that was dad.

Last May I knew he didn’t have much time left, so I tried to spend as much of it with him as I could. I’d bring my laptop to the hospital so he could stream episodes of Star Trek — his favorite show.

We had so many conversations. Some serious, some not. We shared the same dry sense of humor. He was definitely funnier than me. He could make me laugh hysterically from just a look. We had a good number of laughs even though it was a difficult time.

I was with him in his last few hours. He wasn’t conscious at that point, but I spoke to him and read to him hoping he’d be able to hear me. I’m happy to say that I was with him when he passed. I’m glad he wasn’t alone.

I miss him dearly. I recently heard Oprah Winfrey say that when someone passes, they become an even bigger part of you and you feel their presence more strongly than when they were on Earth. That’s a great way to explain it.

People can debate on whatever that “feeling” is, but to me, it’s 100% dad. Just in a different format.

As we all know, the months after losing a loved one are difficult. Not only are you dealing with the emotions, but there’s paperwork and offices you have to visit. Loose ends to tie up. This is on top of all the regular life stuff that we all deal with.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. It’s been a long few months. I haven’t felt peppy enough to preach to people about living your “happiest, healthiest lives!” I’m a divorced mom to high-energy twins with a lot going on. I’ve been busy trying to survive each day — eating plants, running, and praying that one day I’ll feel normal again.

I haven’t been able to write since he passed, but I’m starting to get ideas that I keep in an extremely disorganized list in my notes app.

He always encouraged my writing and kept all of my press clippings from my short-lived journalism career. I found them as I sorted through his stuff.

He was hoping I’d write a book someday. He’d tell me to never stop running — he believed it was great therapy — and also, never stop writing.

So, here I am. Restarting the engine on this thing to see if it still works. Maybe one day I’ll get around from disorganized notes to a book, but that’s a task that I’m not quite ready to take on yet.

Also, I’m a little rusty on longer-form writing. My hope is that by doing it somewhat regularly, not only will it help my brain settle (see mind! I’m writing! The thing you think about every day!) but also will help me improve.

Keeping it simple right now:

• Keep running

• Keep writing

• Keep going