My Dad

This is my dad.

And if a picture is worth 1,000 words, this absolutely sums him up. Whatever words spring to mind when looking at this picture are probably 100% accurate.

I've written here about my dad several times and what a special relationship we have. So much of who I am is because of him. By example, he has taught me to work hard, put family first, keep smiling, be honest & fair, always look on the bright side and, maybe most importantly, to enjoy life.

My dad had his first heart attack at the age of 42. It was shortly before my 12th birthday, and if it hadn't of been for friends of our family being involved in his medical care, and working desperately and tirelessly to save his life when he went into cardiac arrest, he wouldn't be here today.

He had his second heart attack nine years later. It was shortly before my 21st birthday, and if it hadn't of been for my sister who'd become an intensive care nurse, recognizing the symptoms and insisting he go to the hospital when he himself thought it was just indigestion, he probably wouldn't be here today.

He's endured two open heart surgeries, multiple other tests and procedures, and lives with a heart that is only 50% functioning. He has outlived all his brothers, even though he is the only one to have had a heart attack and such a complex cardiac history. When I was a baby, his own father died in his arms of a heart attack as they were coming back from a father-son day of fishing.

If there ever were a shining example of living by choice, my dad is it. He has had the lion's share of pain and suffering, both physical and emotional, and yet he continues to be positive and downright happy. I've seen so many people who have had half the misfortune he's had spend their lives wallowing in self-pity and negativity. But not Dad. Every day is a new adventure, a new opportunity to make memories and spend time with people he loves, doing what he loves.

He himself will tell you he's living on borrowed time. He makes very few excuses for doing whatever the heck he wants, choosing to spend whatever time he has here on earth being happy and grateful. I can't tell you how much I admire that.

The night before my dad walked me down the aisle to marry my husband a thought occurred to me: What would have become of me had my dad died during that first heart attack? What would my life have been like? It's a thought I can barely stand to imagine, but I know that I wouldn't be the woman I am today, with the rich and loving memories that I carry in my heart, and the joie de vivre that he nurtured in me.

The other day I was hanging out with my dad and he yet again joked that I was going to get sick of seeing him now that we're neighbors. And, yet again, I reassured him that that was impossible. He turned to me, with a grin similar to the one above, and said "I know how you feel about me." "How's that?" I asked, grinning myself. "I know how you feel about me," he said, "because I felt the same way about my dad. I couldn't spend enough time with him or do enough for him. I was always with him."

With tears stinging my eyes, all I could do was nod. He does know.

And that's all that matters.

Competition

I can't compete.


I snuck quietly into the blogosphere a little over two years ago. (July 18th to be exact - Happy Blogoversary to me!) I had stumbled across a little blog called Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and felt inspired to try my hand at online writing. Well, hrruumph. That's akin to me hopping on my bike and thinking I can keep up with Lance Armstrong. Inspirational, yes. Motivating, yes. Realistic, NO.

Sure, I can ramble and blather on about my mundane musings, but does anyone want to read that?? I mean, when there is such absolute brilliance as this out there, my rather pathetic pontifications are pointless. (Alliteration, anyone??)

One of my favorite bloggers was having much the same feeling the other day and I found myself telling her to continue on with her "ramblings" (her words), and reassuring her that her "ramblings" were what kept me coming back, that I could relate to her best when she just shared simple thoughts instead of always trying to write "the perfect post".

And then a lightbulb clicked on.

I started doing this mainly as a record of my life, and my children's lives and our times together. I've chronicled the construction of our house and I'm sure that if I hadn't, I would have already forgotten the frustrations and efforts and feelings I had throughout the process. I've recorded many of the adventures that our family has been on. I've shared my thoughts and feelings and fears and goals. I've bragged about my amazing kids. I've written myself memories of the last two years.

And you know what? Much like looking back at my teenage diaries, I find myself re-reading and remembering things I'd forgotten and being able to laugh at things that were oh-so serious/painful/stressful at the time. I've recorded parts of me and my life that otherwise would have faded and eventually been forgotten. I've shared myself and made some new friends, as well as kept my friends and family apprised of what's going on in my life.

Mainly, I've documented ME - who I am, what matters to me, what I'm thinking and doing. Much like in real life, my words are often not very poetic or even remotely organized at times, but they are always genuinely ME.

And I don't need to compete.