Loss is hard.  It doesn’t matter the age, time, or place. There is never a convenient time to lose someone you love.  I was 12 when I lost my dad suddenly to a blood clot that formed a week after a routine knee surgery. Even though it was 22 years ago, I remember every detail.  I remember exactly where I was when I heard dad was taken to the hospital.  In fact I remember the breath mint my friend handed to me right before my Aunt came and got me.  I still can’t eat those mints…. I remember the smells of the hospital waiting room. I remember the sounds. I remember it all so vividly. For years the sounds of people or babies crying  even in movies was traumatizing for me. I remember the silence in the car that night driving home. I remember the extreme void I felt as I laid in my bed and cried in my pillow. I remember somehow blaming this on myself. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t a good son, I fought with my siblings too much. Somehow this was all my fault. I remember the ocd that followed, the sleepless nights, walking into his room and smelling his cologne that still sat on his dresser (Brut… who wears Brut) just so I could hang onto a little piece of Him. With all of the pain and heartache I felt, and still feel, I also remember the hugs, and the words of encouragement. The tremendous amount of support from friends and family, the never ending food and meals brought to our home.  I remember coaches, church leaders, and friends-parents stepping up and helping anyway they could. But more so than any of this I remember my Dad. I remember his cry laugh and the way he would tell jokes. I remember playing catch in the backyard and bruising up his legs with my low heater.  I remember catching him and mom kissing in the kitchen with both arms wrapped around her.  I remember him at every game and pretty much every practice.  I remember him making me take my shirt off and flex for complete strangers that were visiting in our home. I remember the way his face lit up every time he talked about any of his kids.  I could go on, but the point is I remember how much he loves me, and I remember that he’s still with me.  Even though I can’t bring him back, I can always remember the impact he had on my life.  Let us try and always remember to be kind, we never know what someone might be going through.  Life is much too short to spend it bickering with one another.  Love ya, have a smoooooooooth week!

Cabe