Mom died in 2011. Her loss devastated Dad and me. We discovered that we had a choice…
“Get busy living or get busy dying.”
Let me explain… Dad and Mom met in high school. Within a few days, they were inseparable. They were best friends first. That was a time when it was unusual for boys and girls to have that kind of relationship.
Dad, Mom, and Jason years ago.
Dad was a tough guy, a boxer. Mom was also an athlete, a track star. They did everything together. She helped him train. He ran with her in the mornings. They spoke late into the night on the phone. Within a year, they had fallen in love.
After high school, they were engaged. Married. I was born. Our family from that point on as close as a family could be. Jokes and teasing were the norm; so were morning and bedtime hugs. Mom and Dad — two crazy lovebirds, an inseparable team.
So when mom died suddenly in 2011 — a heart attack with no warning — I was devastated. But for Dad the pain was unbearable. He plunged into an abyss. He lived in void. Mom was his life. He was lost. READ MORE
Today’s story is from Brian Hague about his dad, Greg Hague.
Winter of ’92. I was 14. Denver bound. A father-son ski trip. Dad had a conference for his company there, too. I would finally get to see him “perform” for a big audience.
Dad and me before our spaghetti dinner, 1992
The first day was incredibly fun! Bombing the slopes, racing to the bottom on every run. A battle against each other. Against ourselves. Against the mountain. We capped the day with an incredible spaghetti dinner.
The next morning — the conference was HUGE! Five hundred people looked like five thousand! I was terrified. What if he choked? Froze up?
I sat in the back corner, holding my breath as Dad took the stage. What happened next remains one of my most vivid memories, and a valuable lesson on life. No outlines. No cue cards. No charts or graphs. He spoke to that crowd like he was speaking to us at the dinner table. Totally relaxed. Poised and assertive. Funny and engaging. READ MORE