All for one, and one for all. ForEverMorre. My three children were raised with yes, a familiar motto, to covet when it came to their siblings. For in this vast world, from cradle to grave, each will have two other people who will always have their back. They will always show up in a moment’s notice, no matter what. Unity with the Original Three, building upon our family’s Legacy Tree.
It is in this, that my children respectively uphold the privilege of responsibility in carrying forward through time with pride and honor, the legacy that came before them, my father’s, and of course, their father’s.
As time moves forward, further away from Dad’s passing, it will be upon those of us, in the here and now, to share out loud our memories and stories of him. And in doing so, his name will be spoken, his life will be reminisced, photos will be looked upon and in these simple acts, Dad will live on.
We’ll point out moments when we catch ourselves or another, doing or saying something in a way like him. I cook like my Dad. Eyeball measurements, “this looks about right”. When we are reminded of how much we are like him, Dad is not forgotten. Even ten years on, every now and then, Dad and I cook together.
The most important and significant honor beholden to my children and their children, is that they are my father’s legacy… in name and in spirit. And one day, as the inevitability of my mortality comes due, they all, will be mine.
My Dad was a man who passed away when a disease prevailed. His struggle with the disease didn’t become his new identity… it was how Dad continued to live his life with grace that did.
So, it is on purpose, that I haven’t disclosed ‘the name’ of the disease that Dad died from. As it did not define him, I shall not define it either. You see, the true beauty is how Dad lived regardless of it, in spite of it, and because of it. I want you to see a man who purposely lived his life with intent, with a curiosity of ‘what’ and a beautiful zest to ‘try’.
And as Dad lived with purpose, he died with it too.
The act of being human has its challenges and its triumphants. And for Dad, just ‘being’ became a challenge as the disease progressed and the ugly became overwhelming. The realness of my Dad’s ugly with this disease is not the tribute I’m paying homage to.
Gentle Grace, Valiant Kindness, Humility, Quiet Suffering, and Unwavering Strength with Stubborn Persistence in fighting to hold onto himself in the thick of the ugly…that is his story… Dad’s Story, My Tribute.
I’ve wondered what the triumphs of Dad’s life were after his diagnosis. Challenges became many over time. And I suppose his persistence in just being him and winning while in the ugly was Dad’s triumph. And yes, sometimes, there is gentle and fierce grace that stands unwavering and defiant against one’s mortality.
But my Dad was human and he felt pain and he felt the loss of himself too. That was the ‘real’ in all of this.
My Superman in my story is mortal. He hurted. But forevermorre, he will be spoken about and he will live on. And the last kind words of our last memories, will leave us all, with him and with peace.