Every Single Day...

"The loss of a beloved is an amputation."
-C.S. Lewis
So, about a month ago, I sat down and wrote a post to publish on the anniversary of my dad's passing. It was very negative and pretty depressing. Even though I said I wasn't trying to "throw a pity party" in it, it definitely still came off that way. It was called "Every Single Day", and it was about how I don't just miss him on the "big days" like Christmas, Easter, Father's Day, etc...but that I missed him, well, Every Single Day. I decided to scrap that post and write a different one...

My wife, daughter, and I just got back from a family vacation in Myrtle Beach this last weekend. We chose Myrtle Beach because that is where my dad was living (and where his dad lived)...it was where my dad died...it was where we spread my dad's ashes. We chose to go when we did because it was the one year anniversary of his death. It may sound kind of morbid and strange that we would choose that for our family vacation, but that's exactly why we chose it. We wanted to spend time as a family in place that we loved and still have a remembrance of my dad.

We had an amazing time. We made it a conscious decision to enjoy our time there. I did take a few minutes in the morning during my runs on the beach to reflect on "stuff", but for the most part, we spent the entire trip enjoying our time as a family on our first vacation together.

Today marks one year since my dad passed away...and after our vacation, I realize how many blessings I had in the timing of when he died. Instead of not throwing a pity part in this post, I've decided to talk about some of these blessings.

Probably the first "blessing" is just the way he died...when I tell people he died of a heart attack while running, their first thought is typically a long, painful event. My dad was out running on the beach (which he loved to do) and collapsed. There was a cardiac nurse within 20 feet of him on the beach when he fell and she said that by the time she got to him, he was already gone. She tried CPR on him for a while until the paramedics arrived, but to no avail. Basically, he died extremely quickly doing something he loved in a place he loved being.

My dad was happier than he had ever been in his life. Every time we went down to Myrtle Beach to visit him, he was always smiling, laughing, and talking about how he just felt so free and young again. He constantly talked about how he couldn't believe that he got to live like he did. He was a social butterfly down there. He made more friends -- CLOSE friends -- down there in the 2 years that he was down there than I have in the last 15. Everyone that met him liked him, and he made friends with everyone he ran into. How many people can say that they died at the happiest time in their life, surrounded by more close friends than you can count? Ok, probably none, since the dead can't talk, but you know what I mean.

I never had to see my dad get old. The last memories I have of my dad are of him being happy, loving life, and still 100% mentally present (and still trying to solve some of the biggest problems in physics and math). Do you know amazing it is to not have my last memories of him be him lying in a hospital bed, too weak to move? Or how nice it is that he never forgot who I was? The last memories I have of my dad are of my dad, not a fragile, dying shell of a person.

Probably the hardest thing I have had to deal with over the last year is knowing the fact that my daughter will never get to meet my dad. I have dwelled on this fact more than I probably should. What I keep forgetting is that at least my dad knew about her. I won't go into any details here, but the fact that we were able to tell him that he was going to be a grandpa only a month or two before he died is amazing. When he found out, he was so excited. He told everyone he knew that he was going to be a grandpa. Even though my daughter will never get to meet him, he loved her so much.

I can go on, but I think I'll stop there. It's so easy to look at the loss of a loved one and dwell on all the negatives. I know I have for the last year now. What I've started realizing is that it is more important to dwell on the positives...whatever they may be. I don't think there is a better way to describe the feeling than the above quote. Losing a loved one is literally like losing a piece of you. It forever changes you and who you are and how you view the world. You just have to decide if it changes you negatively or positively.

I love you, Dad. It's been the hardest year of my life...but I'm so thankful for everything you did for us...

And now for a couple shameless plugs for some amazing people in Myrtle Beach...if you are ever in the Myrtle Beach area, you have to stop by these places:

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