It’s what you leave behind

It hits different each year. These milestones. Moments without you.

Like a filter sifting something new out of grief. Something to take with me. Or maybe, simply discovering something you left behind.

“I knew your dad.” I hear this, even twelve years after you’ve been gone. It’s a story from someone who “wasn’t anyone.” Someone who “your dad shouldn’t have cared about, or known my name.” But you did. Whatever you said. Whatever you did. It meant something to them. It mattered. They still remember enough to tell your daughter.

This summer, I walked into Lowes. Picked out a gallon of Eggshell paint, Base C and made friends with the guy behind the counter (his name is Noah). I bought some calking, handles for a dresser, a new doorknob, and picked out some trim, took it to the back of the store, pressed the button and then instructed another guy (forgot his name) to cut me 3 pieces at 11 3/4 inches. I walked out of there thinking, “Gosh, Dad (and Joanna Gaines) would be so proud of me.”

Just last week, at the age of 42, I gave Mom directions to find me on a cross country course and correctly used the cardinal direction of West. Seriously, you’d be so proud.

This past spring, your grandson had a breakout year. He qualified for the Drake Relays and it was a joyous moment for all of us. It transported me to his first visit to the Relays, where he toddled along with you and me, and we daydreamed about the day he’d run on the Blue Oval. “The calves of a 400 runner,” you said. And well, it’s a race he’s finally learned to love. You’d be so proud.

It’s all these things. All the tiny grains. The momentous and the mundane. You’re with me. With us.

And honestly, what an honor.

What an honor to be the daughter of someone remembered for a small act of kindness.

To be thought of on a random Thursday evening.

To cherish something and share it with the next generation.

To be remembered with a smile. With comfort. With a very real feeling that I can still make you proud.

In a world today that seems designed to be celebrated or villianized for 90 viral seconds, you are my reminder to leave behind something that endures. To make an impact. To show up, learn a new name, a new skill, and be proud of the work I do in the world.

You made it look so easy, Dad. Thanks for leaving so much love behind.

#playyou

Coach D

Thanks for reading and sharing. I hope it leaves you encouraged.