I’m not a fan of disclosing my personal brand of meandering inner narrative to the web at large. This isn’t going to be a Facebook post, or a pithy Tweet.

On September 1st, 2020, my father finally succumbed to his long and arduous fight with cancer. It was a saga of a number of years, a slow and plodding pace to the grave. A sad decline for anyone, made worse for the prideful man that my father was, to slowly lose his independence.

I would not wish it for anyone, even someone with as complicated a life as my father.

Now isn’t the time to delve into the nuance of my father’s life and his actions. He was, like everyone, a person of layers, made up of good and bad. Above all else, he was my father and I am more impacted by this loss than I thought I’d be.

The sadness comes in fits and starts, in little regrets and remembrances. A classic car on the street, the Discovery channel, a day at the CNE. I wrote something I wanted to read to him before he passed, but could never work up the nerve, since reading it meant that I’d accepted his death and that wasn’t a thought I could reckon with. That is a regret which will follow me, and I have to live with. I couldn’t even leave it with him to read, by the end he wasn’t really able to do even that. I post it here for… I don’t know, so that the words exist somewhere.

“Hey Dad,


I wanted to give you something that you can keep, can hold and read and reread and have that helps explain the person you are to me.

I have a picture in my head of you that I will keep forever. A portrait of all the precious moments that represent ‘Dad’ in my head, the things that will always remind me of you no matter where I am. I have the memory of you making french toast on Sunday mornings, of going to car shows and sharing in your hobbies, of trips to theme parks and exhibitions, of vacations where we kayaked, road horses and cycled, and a memorable time in Spain with a maitre’d you insisted was a ‘really good looking guy’.

I remember going to Costa Rica with no real expectations of what I would do or see there, and you acting as the gracious host and perennial tourguide. Going hiking up a mountain, ziplining through the trees, visiting a butterfly sanctuary and staying at a hotel with more monkeys than people. All of these experiences are held dear in my heart, and will forever paint the picture of you as my father.

My memories aren’t solely dedicated to these grand gestures and decadent demonstrations. The quiet moments are equally precious to me. Of hours spent in the garage, watching you work on your latest endeavor, be it tiny trees, hot rods or jewelry making. Your bonsai, corvette and pendant necklace are some of the most vibrant images that conjure up ‘you’ in my mind. I’m pretty sure my own insatiable appetite for hobbies, to try everything and throw myself into anything full-stop, are part of me that I owe to you.

You fostered my interest in computers and technology at an early age, bringing me back magazines like MacWorld and MacAddict with CDs full of software for me to while away the hours pouring over. Your interest in technology fueled my own, and we could spend hours talking about the latest news from Apple. I will always be thankful for this, as my relationship with computers and technology has become something of a defining trait in my life.

I know that I’m not the easiest person to deal with, nor the easiest child to raise. Despite my differences and the challenges in raising someone like me, I feel like you embraced a lot of the things that make me different, and even celebrated them.

While it might not be evident in our interactions, I’m proud to have you as my father. Your entrepreneurial spirit, your dedication to being your own boss and blazing your own trail, and your determination to take your humble beginnings and turn them into a portrait of success.

I know it’s selfish to think of, even now, but I want the opportunity to make you proud of me. Where Jacquie and Lee Ann have their families and their careers and have lives that let you know that they’re going to be okay, I’ve always been a step behind and a dollar short. I can only promise you that I’ll live a life that will make you proud of me, just as you’ve lived a life to be proud of.

I love you, in every small thoughtful gesture, in family gatherings, in shared hobbies and forgiving past misdeeds. I love you with every fond memory and treasured moment from my youth up until today. I love you for all the times I didn’t say it before, and I love you for all the times I won’t be able to say it again. It will never be enough.

My one and only father, now and forever.

Devin”

It’s not enough, but it’s all I can do now.