Four years ago yesterday, I lost my Dad. We have longevity in our family. I expected he’d live well into his nineties. He was 79, just a few weeks shy of his eightieth birthday.
My Dad was smart, savvy, well-traveled and seemed invincible, larger than life.
If I could change one thing, it would be to have one more conversation with Dad, albeit a long one. I’d let him know I was proud to be his daughter and though we were sometimes at odds, I always knew he loved me – and that I loved him.
I’d thank him for being a good provider, for having so much to do with sparking my love of travel from a young age and for singlehandedly getting me to see the wisdom of starting a 401k.
I’d tell him how much I admired his leadership of our family business and those jobs he created and kept in our community.
I’d let him know that his approval of my choices and when he told me he was proud of me, meant the world.
I live in the home that was built by my grandparents when my Dad was a boy. He has everything to do with my moving into this home 30 years ago. He was so happy knowing that I love living here with a passion. I wouldn’t have to tell him that, it was something we spoke of often.
I still have talks with my Dad and feel his presence, though I no longer can hear his voice.
If you still have your Dad, have the conversation now while you can, leave nothing unsaid.