Today, for all intents and purposes, was a normal day. Except that it wasn’t. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when my life changed completely. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when I lost my dad. Today marks the anniversary of when I watched him die.
My dad, even though he was a former mountain climber, avid hiker, and developed a love of mountain biking in the final year of his life; had eleven different lung diseases. It was a brutal combination of genetics, working with asbestos and other toxins without a mask, and the fact that he smoked for 33 years. He had multiple inhalers that he used on a daily basis. One of them was an emergency inhaler. It was that particular inhaler he was going for when he had his fatal asthma attack. He was feet from the medicine that could have saved his life and he didn’t make it.
The thing most people don’t know about my dad is that he wasn’t my biological father. Yet, he raised both my sister and I as if we were his kids. He was our father, even if it wasn’t by blood. I changed my last name officially in high school — even though I had been using it for most of my schooling years. My parents had celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary twenty days before he was suddenly taken from us. Fifteen life changing years.
I still miss him. Not every day, like the first few years after he passed. But, randomly, my heart will twinge at a memory. Or a desire for me to share something with him. That desire still hasn’t left me and I know it never will. I still love him, even though I lost the sound of his voice and his laugh.For the first decade, this was the worst day of the year for me. Now there’s a bittersweet acceptance that life can change in an instant — and end even faster.
Life is far too short. So tell the ones you love that you love them. Forgive someone now, before it’s too late. And never fail to say goodbye. Because you never know when the last time you’ll be able to say it will be.
