Saying goodbye to my parents when I would head back to college always ended the same way. We’d hug at the airport check point and I would take off towards security and look back every few steps, smile and wave. I’d do this three times. That was our weird, little unspoken tradition.
My last visual memory of my dad is in this moment. I was 20 years old, heading back to Towson, Maryland (Towson University) a few weeks before Spring session to enjoy some class-free, volleyball-free, college LIFE. In the middle of airport, we said our goodbyes and down the ramp towards security I went. I looked back and waved. Walked a few more steps, looked back and waved again. On my third and final wave, my dad tightly grabbed the bill of his white Towson hat, lifted it a foot above his head and with a huge smile, waved it back and forth just high enough above the crowds so I could see him. That was the last time I saw him.
Four weeks later he died. He went to the hospital for a simple test, something went horribly wrong and within 10 hours, he was gone.
We all have our own crossroads in life and this is mine. This was the moment my life changed… not immediately, but it shaped who I am today. I often wonder who I’d be if he was still here, if he didn’t go to the doctor that day, if they had stopped and saved him sooner. I wonder the what ifs; but it only causes heartache. So on the anniversary of his death, I just think about all the good times and the laughs we shared and how I changed after this day.
I’m independent because this moment taught me this the only life I’ve got and that I need to experience it in every which way. I am a photographer because I want to capture the little moments not only for my family… but for others. I’m a designer because I decided to follow my heart and just CREATE. I travel every chance I get because he didn’t get to (and it’s then I feel alive and free). I’m blunt, because I don’t believe in wasting a minute of honesty. I laugh hard because he taught me what it means to have a sense of humor. But mostly, I know what it means to lose a part of yourself, pick up the pieces and start again.
We all have that one moment (or more) that changes our lives. Mine just happens to involve a goodbye that I didn’t know was coming.
Rest in peace, Dad. Thank you for all the moments we did get to share. Forever and ALWAYS missed. 2.26.02
