_ MORE TO YOUR STORY ___
I first wrote this almost a year ago, in a hotel room snuggled in 3 deep, toes to nose with my Mom and Sister. We were staying in a small hotel just outside the University Hospital, Dad was going through the ringer of diagnostics and found out he had come out of remission. We were together to do what ever we could to help Dad, love on mom and stand by each other to face off with the unknown. At the time I worried this would come across as a goodbye. So, I kept it to myself as this was absolutely not a goodbye.
There has to be more to this story, Your story.
You have always been the best story teller I know. Each one, rich with details from the scents and sounds to the light and colors making each tale vivid and real.
The kind of detail only a man who really soaks in life, rather than simply move through it, can tell.
You have always been Big Love in small moments.
The sweet notes in lunches you packed with care, always a special treat and perfectly folded napkin.
Teaching me to draw by the crackling fire in Jackson hole, I can feel that moment when I sit with Ava and share with her how you taught me. But most significantly, I can feel the warmth of your affection as I sit right next to her, in hopes she will feel just as loved as you made me feel.
Posting Mom’s Grad.School reportcards on the fridge, never hesitant to share how proud you are or how much you love her.
The Cat Stevens CD you slipped in my river bag and whispered to play #4 as loud as I could once you drove away. That song is still my “go to” on a hard day.
The rich smell of cedar sawdust, hint of cigar and crisp fall air – my favorite smell! It brings vivid memories of childhood tuck-ins and long chats out in your shop.
It was in your shop, on the squeaky swivel stool, where you taught me how to find my center. How to pull within when the world would try to “knock me of my axis.”
Did you know then, just how much I would rely on this lesson as a foundation of my resilience as an adult?
That same stool is where you taught me about boys and how I needed to know my own value before I would meet someone who could recognize it too. I should have listened, you were right, you usually are.
I can still remember the way the sunlight streamed in the car window as you reached back to squeeze my sweaty, pink sock covered foot, a gesture made so often, of your consistent and big Love in the simplest most ordinary of moments.
These are just a fraction of the stories, small moments, I come back to when I need to center myself, when I question if I am doing enough to make sure my babies know they are loved.
We each have our own favorite chapters with you, not always written in words, but in the small moments filled with love.
You are our foundation. I know it’s not easy being the rock, especially when you are tired, let us be the ones to give you solid ground. You see, its gift to give back to you, the very big love that gave us all our own strength.
You are strong, tenacious and stubborn. All three of us embraced these traits, which made us challenging to raise I am sure, but they also make us strong adults. I know that you will use this character to dig deeper, keep up the fight and push through the way you always want us to…your story has so many more chapters.
You may not know, how big your impact is but If you look to your children’s resilience, drive and love for you, The fight and enduring love Mom has for you, the way your grand babies seek you out and snuggle into you… because they also cherish your big love in small moments.
You taught us how to be tender and tough, so let us fight for and love on you, it’s the least we can do to show how grateful we are, to be apart of your story and for the way you make the details of ours stories so rich.
Today I share these words as a celebration of your fight and remissions! I am so incredibly greatful to have more to our story and know there is more to come.
One of my favorite evidences of the fact you are here and full of fight, would have to be the stories Mom shared about your impromptu renditions of Big Sean’s, “I Don’t F@*k With You.”
Makes me smile ear to ear! You keep rappin’ and dancin’ Dad! This ones for you autoimmune…..??
I love you Dad, more then I know how to put into words.
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