You only get one

This post concerns Father's Day and the men who have mentored me since my father passed. During a ski trip earlier this year, my cousin Jimbo told me, "You only get one father, but you can have many mentors." I wanted to share a few mentions of those who have helped me in this time of need.

Honorable mention: I met a guy (Dan) who I jokingly referred to as "dad" a few times on a hike. He and his wife come on many of the hikes I am involved with. I can always count on them to be there when I need someone to talk to.

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There are friends of ours who didn't have children but have been like adopted dads for me during this experience. I talk to two of them weekly, and the impact they have made on my personal life is one I will never forget and am thankful to have. It is almost like my dad never left when I talk to these two guys. They are like my dad in most ways and have either worked with him or grown up with him. As one pointed out, "I loved your dad and the time we spent together, and I am thankful to have this relationship with you as well."

Despite only being 19-20 years older than me, my cousin Carl has also been like an extra father figure to me. He taught me a lot about liquor and taking care of myself. I would not be where I am today if we had not reinvented our relationship. When we went to the WVU basketball game together, despite WVU losing, I had an experience with Carl that I usually had shared with my father, which was staying in our seats until the final buzzer sounded. My dad and I never left any game early that we attended. It wasn't to get our money's worth but more so to say, "We finished the game." We did that after we missed a record-setting performance at my alma mater when Taylor Heinicke threw for 736 yards in a single football game with no interceptions. We had left after halftime because ODU had been trailing by a significant number, just for them to return and win the game 64-61. I had that inner peace of staying at an event until the buzzer sounded like my dad and I had done every time we went to a sporting event. We went to that game with Carl's son Chuck and his friends. Chuck and his friends made their way out of the arena with about 3-4 minutes left in the game, just for Carl to text his son, "You are going to miss this sweet comeback, bro." They were waiting outside the car when we finally made it out. They didn't miss any comebacks because WVU lost.

Every one of the men mentioned in this post since my father has passed, in their own way, has made me feel at ease. Whether going out to dinner, attending baseball games, or just communicating via text message or phone call, the experience, although not excellent, has remained manageable.

Another guy who we recently took to a baseball game to watch Paul Skenes of the Pirates pitch. He came to the game at the last minute during an afternoon matchup. I had dinner with him and his wife at the last minute about a week earlier. In this moment, as ironic as it would be, the man's name is Jim. My mom and I were also at the game, so in a way, Jim was back with Deb and AJ. Jim worked with my dad early on in my dad's career, and they stayed good friends throughout their lives. At the hospital, Jim would be in my dad's room at the bedside by himself. I have no idea what he talked to my dad about or if it was just moments of silence. I know Jim is a guy I can talk to whenever I need to. He is someone who will help me understand my finances and is someone I can go to when I need to have time alone with someone else. Jim and I discussed the recent loss of my employment, and he formulated a plan for me to discuss it with human resources. Jim also invited me to their house to watch hockey with him one night and have pizza. The last six months have been a whirlwind, but having Jim in my life has been a delight. He has reviewed my IRA with me, taught me about investments, and has continued to be someone I can contact whenever I need someone. He and his wife have invited me over for lunch and to hang out occasionally.

An additional father figure for me since both passed in my life in the last six months, my dad and his friend Tom, is a guy that Tom called "The King." His name is Joe, and he is the closest to royalty I will ever get. I often joke about him. Joe has been accommodating, both for me and for my mom. During the game that Jim came to with us, as mentioned above, the Pirates blew a late lead and lost the game. Joe called me that evening to discuss the loss and shared, "I knew you would agree with me on the late-inning collapses this team has endured this season and what the fix to those problems would be." Joe has helped my mom with her financial situation and has helped me whenever I need a shoulder to cry on. At the hospital with my dad, there were concerns from friends and family that I had not appeared affected by the reality, and they were waiting for me to break. When Joe visited, I broke. Even writing this was hard because I realized it was real when Joe arrived. It is challenging, to say the least, for my mom and me in general, but we are thankful we have those around us who have helped us when we needed them the most.

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Since my father passed, my cousin Jimbo has been my final mentor. All of my life, I idolized him as someone I could look up to. In high school, I had to write an assignment called a "hero book." Most of my classmates shared sports figures and celebrities, but my hero for the book was Jimbo. He is a decorated National Guard veteran. He always led by example during my childhood and my adolescent years. I credit him for turning my life around when I was near rock bottom, struggling to keep relationships with my parents because I was too focused on a girl who was destroying my livelihood. If it wasn't for a stern conversation from Jimbo and his wife Karen, I don't know if I would be where I am today. During my dad's hospitalization, Jimbo and Karen were there every moment. They sacrificed so much for our family to be with us those six days, just as Jimbo had always sacrificed so much when he served our country and protected our freedoms.

Jimbo shared with me essential lessons from his dealings with death. The first lesson was, "It is okay to be a little selfish." This meant to do whatever needs to be done to care for your loved one, like not making a rash decision just because the situation looks dire. The second lesson had to do with making decisions with a moral compass. There was a moment in the hospital when I commented on not allowing a specific family member into the hospital because I didn't want to agitate my father. Jimbo found out and pulled me aside to talk to me about having a moral obligation to my father to allow this family member to be present, regardless of how she hurt me, my father, or my mother, during our lives by being nonexistent in our lives. Irrespective of this nonexistence, he helped me see that having her there to pay her final respects to him was more of a moral obligation than a decision I could make alone. Although I still regret having her be present, it wasn't up to me. Jimbo has always been there to set me straight.

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Personal reflection:

Father's Day, June 16, 2024, will forever be different for me. I will not be able to celebrate with my father. Adaptation has always been a part of my life. Adapting to change, yes, he is not here physically, but he is here spiritually. We can still celebrate Father's Day as a family, and I will continue embracing these other father figures. They all have contributed to my life since my father and Tom have left us. Both my father and Tom would be proud. They are likely smiling from above, and although they may be jealous, they are not here to be with us physically. We will see them again. No matter how rough this experience has been, thanks to those mentioned in this article, it has been manageable. Do I miss my father every day? Yes. Do I wish he was here with me? I do. Am I thankful for Dan, Mike, Mark, Jim, Joe, and Jimbo? Infinite percent, yes, my life would be different without these men. Thank you for impacting my life in ways I could have never imagined.