If you had told me that today I would be pouring over Pennsylvania education legislation to update office policies and procedures, I would have called in sick.
If you had told me that today I would be pouring over Pennsylvania education legislation to update office policies and procedures, I would have called in sick.
Categories:
Work
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| Dad, looking fierce |
So, it’s been a year since my dad passed away. Yeah, it’s been a year already.
May 30th, 2014 he was riding his motorcycle and another driver accidentally hit him. The coroner told us that he was likely killed instantly which, as you might imagine, was little consolation in the immediate aftermath of the accident.
Here is what I’ve learned in the 52 weeks since he died.
- It never goes away, but it does get easier. I love my dad very much and miss him. Every day. In the past year my family, particularly my kids, have accomplished a great many things. My dad would have been extremely proud of his grandkids and their talents. It hurts to know that my kids won’t have their “Popeye” (that’s what they call him) watching at their ballet recitals or soccer games.
Currently, we are in the process of selling our home and buying a new one. There are so many projects or situations where I would have loved to have sought his advice. Instead, I have to settle with trying to imagine what stellar wisdom he would have imparted to me (and I guarantee that it would have indeed been stellar).
All of that said, for me the pain has gotten more and more dull as time has gone by. In the weeks and months of last summer, particularly the first two or three months immediately following his passing, it didn’t take much to bring tears to my eyes. Now, while I still think of him everyday, I don’t get nearly as emotional. At least, not as easily. Life goes on. - Love of family is strong. Support from family is essential.
This is an easy one, plain and simple. I don’t know where I would be if it weren’t for my family. The love of those around you can quiet the angriest and most violent of storms. - Forgiveness is easy for some, and more difficult for others.
I won’t go into the long, long version of the story. Suffice it to say the individual who hit my dad was a teenager. Immediately, there were accusations of, “they were probably texting” or “stupid kids were goofing around and not paying attention”. After two separate investigations, one by the Pennsylvania State Police, another by our family attorneys, all evidence points to the accident being just that: an accident. I have come recognize this and have forgiven the other driver. However, there are still those in my family who are in the anger stage of the grief process, and show no discernible signs of progress anytime soon.
But that’s okay. Everyone grieves differently. I made peace with the whole situation in a relatively short amount of time. This doesn’t mean that I had/have it any easier than the next member of my family, it just means that we process these things in different ways.
However, my fear is that those family members who are still angry and want “justice” for my dad’s accident will think that I am being too soft on the other driver. I’m afraid that people will think that I am somehow not as sad as I should be over his passing. This is simply not true.
On the contrary, I don’t want to dwell on negative things like punishment for the other driver involved. In fact, in the days immediately following the accident – when details were still sketchy at best – I vividly remember thinking, “man, this teenager now has to live the rest of their life knowing that they killed another human being.” That is a heavy burden for anyone to carry, but especially for a teenager. Being angry and getting “justice” for my dad won’t bring him back. It is what it is. Oh, it sucks, but as I said earlier, life goes on.
I miss my dad terribly, but I know that wherever he is, he is happy. That notion, in and of itself, brings a smile to my face.
Postscript: A big thank you to all of those who have written, texted, called, emailed, or sent smoke signals in support of my family in the past year. Your kindness is appreciated more than you know.
Categories:
Personal
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| Dad, looking fierce |
So, it’s been a year since my dad passed away. Yeah, it’s been a year already.
May 30th, 2014 he was riding his motorcycle and another driver accidentally hit him. The coroner told us that he was likely killed instantly which, as you might imagine, was little consolation in the immediate aftermath of the accident.
Here is what I’ve learned in the 52 weeks since he died.
- It never goes away, but it does get easier. I love my dad very much and miss him. Every day. In the past year my family, particularly my kids, have accomplished a great many things. My dad would have been extremely proud of his grandkids and their talents. It hurts to know that my kids won’t have their “Popeye” (that’s what they call him) watching at their ballet recitals or soccer games.
Currently, we are in the process of selling our home and buying a new one. There are so many projects or situations where I would have loved to have sought his advice. Instead, I have to settle with trying to imagine what stellar wisdom he would have imparted to me (and I guarantee that it would have indeed been stellar).
All of that said, for me the pain has gotten more and more dull as time has gone by. In the weeks and months of last summer, particularly the first two or three months immediately following his passing, it didn’t take much to bring tears to my eyes. Now, while I still think of him everyday, I don’t get nearly as emotional. At least, not as easily. Life goes on. - Love of family is strong. Support from family is essential.
This is an easy one, plain and simple. I don’t know where I would be if it weren’t for my family. The love of those around you can quiet the angriest and most violent of storms. - Forgiveness is easy for some, and more difficult for others.
I won’t go into the long, long version of the story. Suffice it to say the individual who hit my dad was a teenager. Immediately, there were accusations of, “they were probably texting” or “stupid kids were goofing around and not paying attention”. After two separate investigations, one by the Pennsylvania State Police, another by our family attorneys, all evidence points to the accident being just that: an accident. I have come recognize this and have forgiven the other driver. However, there are still those in my family who are in the anger stage of the grief process, and show no discernible signs of progress anytime soon.
But that’s okay. Everyone grieves differently. I made peace with the whole situation in a relatively short amount of time. This doesn’t mean that I had/have it any easier than the next member of my family, it just means that we process these things in different ways.
However, my fear is that those family members who are still angry and want “justice” for my dad’s accident will think that I am being too soft on the other driver. I’m afraid that people will think that I am somehow not as sad as I should be over his passing. This is simply not true.
On the contrary, I don’t want to dwell on negative things like punishment for the other driver involved. In fact, in the days immediately following the accident – when details were still sketchy at best – I vividly remember thinking, “man, this teenager now has to live the rest of their life knowing that they killed another human being.” That is a heavy burden for anyone to carry, but especially for a teenager. Being angry and getting “justice” for my dad won’t bring him back. It is what it is. Oh, it sucks, but as I said earlier, life goes on.
I miss my dad terribly, but I know that wherever he is, he is happy. That notion, in and of itself, brings a smile to my face.
Postscript: A big thank you to all of those who have written, texted, called, emailed, or sent smoke signals in support of my family in the past year. Your kindness is appreciated more than you know.
Enjoy Nick Offerman reading a shortened version of “'Twas The Night Before Christmas”.
Merry Christmas!
We recorded NBC’s live performance of “Peter Pan” to watch with the kids. I thought that the whole show was sub-par, at best. However, the fact that Mr. Smee (Captain Hook’s first-mate) has a tattoo of a Mythosaur, the symbol of the Mandalorians, made it all worthwhile.
A roundup of pictures from our AWESOME vacation. Let’s do it again next week… 
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Yesterday, we sent our son off to “Outdoor School”; a week-long excursion that the local elementary school uses to take the fifth graders camping (and learning!).
After work, we picked our daughter up from her dance classes and took her out for dinner (OIP, FTW). Later we went home and helped her with her homework, brushed her hair, and tucked her into bed. All the while, The Wife and I were giving our daughter all of our attention. No distractions. No interruptions.
After we tucked our Little Lady into bed, The Wife says to me, “Geez, it’s true; the second child always gets gipped.”
I have always felt that, being a first-born child myself, that the second-born kid got all of the perks. For example, my little brother got to stay out until midnight when in high school, even though I had to be home by 10pm when I was in high school. His curfew was whatever MINE was, at the time, despite the fact that he was nearly three years younger than I.
Totally. Not. Fair.
But that’s what being a first-born was all about; I was the guinea pig for my parents. They tested parental theories out on me, and determined what would work, and what they could scrap for the second-born.
But my Wife has a great point here — the second child really gets gipped when it comes to quality time with the parents. Case-in-point, my son.
For the first three years of his life, my son got the full attention of both of his parents. We played with him (and him only), we read to him (a LOT), we bathed him, we doted on him. Enter the second-born child.
Oh sure, we doted on her too… for a little while. But, the first-born didn’t simply up and disappear, so our daughter was constantly competing with the Boy for our attention.
So there we were last evening, all alone with our daughter working on her homework. Giving her all of our attention. The Wife is absolutely correct when she says that our daughter got gipped, because she really did. Unfortunately, there is not much that a parent can do for a solution to this issue. When you have more than one child, this is a reality.
It’s akin to a game of basketball: when you have one kid, the parents play a zone defense — but when you have two kids it switches to a man-on-man (or a parent-on-kid) defense.
A round up of photos from #MyFirstTri yesterday, the #ChilliChallenge. Had a BLAST with three of my buddies from college. If you had told me two years ago that I would be participating in a triathlon in 2014, I would have laughed in your face. Thanks dudes, for helping me to make it happen! Can’t wait until next year! (okay, maybe I can wait a little bit…)
Categories:
Biking
Fair warning: this post will surely be a buzzkill.
So, I haven’t posted in a while. In fact, one of my more recent posts was nearly three months ago.
The reason that I know that it was three months ago is because I was out mountain biking with my brother, while he was visiting us here in Pennsyltucky.
He was here because our dad died on May 30th.
There is a lot that I’d like to say, but I don’t know how to say it. How does one describe the feelings of love, anger, frustration, fear, and grief that you feel when losing a parent?
Here is how I describe it: It. Sucks.
Sure, we all went through the grieving process in our own ways. And while I have always been one to post my thoughts on the internet as immediately as possible, this was different. I didn’t have the words then, and while I’m giving it my best shot here, I’m not entirely sure that I have the words now either.
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| My brother thinks he looks like "a Grecian tough" |
In 2010 when we both got jobs at Penn State, The Wife and I decided to move back to our hometown. In doing so, we were provided the opportunity to spend more time with our parents. And, while there was definitely something to that, I feel like I could have spent a lot more time. A lot.
Alas, time is something that I no longer have with my dad. I miss him like crazy, particularly when I see or hear things that remind me of him.
The strange thing is that I wouldn’t describe my relationship with my dad as “close”. I would not say that he and I shared a bond the likes of which I have seen with other father/son duos. And, this is my biggest regret.
I had years — YEARS — to work on this. To work on THINGS with my dad. I could have helped him work on that kitchen. I could have helped him fix the car. I could have helped him build the roof over the driveway. But I didn’t. I didn’t do enough.
In the months leading up to his passing, my life had gotten increasingly busy. Between work and my kids, I didn’t have a lot of time for, well, me. So much so that my dad had said to me on several occasions, “Hey, you and I should go out and get a beer together. You need some time to just kick back and blow off some steam.”
We never did get that beer dad. And for that, I am truly sorry.
First ride on the Allegrippis Trails. Rocked my socks (and my brother’s). Will definitely be back. Soon.
Categories:
Biking,
My Brother