Giving Thanks

Around this time last year I was experiencing an uncontrollable feeling of dread. No matter what I did I couldn't shake it. A day with the feeling became a week, a week became a month. It caused such anxiety that I began to lose sleep, then my appetite, I lost nearly 20 pounds. Sometimes the feeling was so strong I called out of work. At times I would say to Jamie with tears in my eyes that "there was bad on the horizon".  Never in my life was I so nervous about something, even though I had no idea what it was.

I put the looming feeling to the back of my mind and enjoyed the Holiday season as best I could. Then on January 4th, without warning, I lost my Father. It quickly dawned on my that the dreadful feeling was gone, replaced by terrible sadness and grief. The weeks that followed were the hardest I've ever faced.

On February 12th, we found out Jamie was pregnant and although the sadness will never fully go away, it dulled ever so slightly that afternoon. In the weeks and months that followed Jamie and I tried our hardest to concentrate on the baby that was on the way,  on "her" way.

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I sat alone in a quiet gray hallway, nervously fidgeting about in my scrubs like countless soon to be Dads before me. Just beyond the heavy swinging doors in front of me was my Wife and our Doctor with a gang of various health care workers, prepping her for a C-Section. It was then when a feeling hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. Not a feeling of dread, not even an anxious feeling, but a familiar one. One that I've somehow known all along.

Nina came to us on October 11th.

Now here we are 6 weeks later and heading into another Holiday season, a year removed from when I first started experiencing those feelings. Anyone who knows me well enough knows I'm not a religious man and outside of Jamie and my immediate family, I've never really even spoke about the strange feelings and how they coincided with my Father's passing. At the time we chalked it up to a host of different things, the psychic connection being the least talked about. It sounded just too X-Files for such heavy times.

Was all of it just a coincidence? The terrible dread, losing my Father, the birth of our Baby Girl. Just a series of events that happened to fall one after another. Or was it something more? A force just beyond the word we know, working itself out, mysteriously. Who knows for sure? None of us I imagine.

What I do know is that this year I am thankful. I am thankful for my beautiful little family and the wonderful love that our house if filled with every single day. Jamie's laugh, Nina's tiny smile. The looks we all give one another as our lives grow, together. Shoot even our pain in the ass dog Harper is a vital part of our happiness.

Like most everything else in his life my Father gave his trademark grunt about the Holidays but they were always filled with family, laughs and good food and he was the center of it all. So all who knew him, knew he loved this time of year.

So it's in his spirit we will make merry as best we can and celebrate life.

He lives on through us.

Happy Birthday Bro.

Hope you and yours had a lovely day.

Dad.

He danced. He shouted. He cracked jokes.

When he got excited he rubbed his hands together as if he were chilly and opened his mouth as wide as could be.

Sometimes he would say the wrong things at the wrong moments and gave people nicknames, uniquely his own.

He still drained three pointers with ease. He enjoyed cheesy science fiction movies.

Great dinners were his thing and he got a kick out of watching people savor good food.

He got cold easily and worked tirelessly through hot summer days.

He couldn't keep a secret.

I watched him snorkeling one afternoon, flipping around in the ocean, in all his glory.

He gave the perfect speech at our wedding and cut an immaculate rug.

If he was in a room he was the center of attention, simply by being there.

He was gentle, strong, smart and hilarious.

He knew his stuff about Motown, I never once stumped him.

He was still very much in love with his high school sweetheart.

He was a hero to my Brother and I and our best buddy.

He was kindred spirits with my Wife.

People knew him wherever we went and people came in droves to pay their final respects.

He lived life everyday and loved unconditionally.

Two weeks, the longest I've gone without talking to my Father. I can't really say I miss him because he is still here. His scent lingers in the house, his voice is alive and boisterous as ever in saved messages on my cellphone. I dream of him every night. I get scared though, thinking of the day I do begin to miss him. I get angry thinking about my own children and how they were robbed of an awesome Grandfather. Most days I'm just sad.

Then I think about what he would say to me. In carefully chosen words, short and to the point. I won't share them but I replay them over and over again in my head. It makes all of this a bit easier to get through. Perhaps that was his final gift to me, maybe the greatest.

The patience and inner strength to take it day by day, to keep on trucking. I've never been so uncertain about what lies ahead but what I do know is my Father gave my family and I more than a lifetime of fond memories. I will do the same, in his honor.

We never did say these words much to each other but I love you Dad. You will always be with me.